A Modern Mind
by Rahja
Summary: A modern woman is given the chance of her lifetime: to change the course of history in another's shoes. But when those shoes are not those she had expected, she suddenly has to face the same tumultuous struggle as any Tudor courtier. Anger, fear, betrayal, love - how can she fight them all off in order to prove that a modern mind can change the course of events?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 - In which I was given a chance**

I should have known. Of course there was a way to mess with me no matter what I said. I really should have seen it coming. But I didn't, and now I'm here. Stuck. Great.

It all started in a dream, mysterious and obscure as dreams often tend to be. I dreamed of things without meaning, of changing places and times and a thousand unknown faces. And then, from amongst the mists of sweven, a shadow emerged. Perhaps I should blame my current predicament on that demon, or ghost, or whatever it actually was. That strangely shaped creature appearing in my dream promising to make my words come true. But I'm not like that, blaming my own faults on others. It wasn't that shadow who said the words. It was me.

"People these days suffered far too much from their poor education. They knew too little, especially about the human mind. Any person with today's sound knowledge of history, politics and psychology would have outclassed the Tudor courtiers with ease."

That's what I said. Sometimes, I tend to have discussions in my dreams, wild philosophical controversies that I would never find real life partners for. Normally, my dream partners would spar with me, challenging, tempting and delighting me, but not this time. This time, my partner suddenly emerged from the dreamy mists.

It asked: "Do you mean it?"

Brash as I only am in my dreams, I straightened my shoulders and agreed.

"Of course. If I'd been in any of their shoes, Catherine's or Anne's or Jane's or whoever, I would have done better. A modern mind could have prevented so many of the troubles and woes of Henry VIII's time. It's not just me; basically anyone could have done it."

"But are YOU willing to be the evidence of your argument?" the shade insisted.

"Well, how could I? The past is in the past."

The shadow drew closer. I should have felt intimidated or forewarned, but dreams have their own strange rules, and this dream had made me somewhat overconfident.

"And what if you could? If, in this dream, you could go back in time to verify your claim, would you be willing to risk it? If a dream could last a lifetime, would you have the heart to live it, far away from your own time? Could you live another woman's life to substantiate your argument?"

"You are trying to trick me, aren't you?" I retorted, thinking myself oh-so-clever. "You'll hear me say yes, and then you'll put me in the body of some washerwoman in China just to prove I couldn't have done anything about the course of events in England. No, thank you."

The shadow shook its head. Did it even have one? Dreams are so confusing.

"I do not mean to fool or double-cross you. Speak your demands. Whoever shall you be? A courtier?"

"Someone who has the King's ear. I do not wish to waste time trying to struggle for his attention. That would not prove anything. If you want me to prove that a modern mind can change the course of history, give me a position with enough power to do so. Let me be a woman that Henry cares for. I could be…"

The shadow interrupted me. "You will not get to choose a name. That would be too easy and thus no worthy proof."

"Fine," I agreed. "But these are my demands: I'll be a woman Henry likes or loves. At a time when he likes her! Not Catherine after she's fallen out of favor or any of the like. Not Anne Boleyn a day before she's dragged to the Tower. I want to have a chance. A real chance to change things."

After what seemed like eons, the shadow complied. "So it shall be done. When you open your eyes, you'll live a life in dreams, from this day hence until the day you die. Everything you'll feel shall be as real to you as any feeling you've ever had. When you bleed, it will hurt. So will death. You will have no powers beyond your modern mind you pride yourself in. See to it that your argument is proven."

Slowly, the shadow began to degenerate into vapors of grey mist, disintegrating into the darkness that surrounded me. I felt elated. I'd been given a chance to prove myself. How little I had thought about the consequences. How much more I should have demanded before agreeing. But I hadn't. And now I'm here.

As I opened my eyes, a myriad of strange sensations flooded my mind. Smells such as I'd never known before, unfamiliar surroundings, and the strange but distinct sensation of being in a body that wasn't mine. I hastily escaped the bed searching for are mirror, anything to show my reflection, but found none. My body felt strangely light, my limbs fragile. What had that shadow done to me? What nasty trick was this?

And then the door opened. A young woman entered, speaking an old-fashioned form of English that I mysteriously seemed to understand.

"Forgive me, your Highness, I didn't know you had already risen. I shall not be late tomorrow, I swear. Should I assist you getting dressed?"

Overwhelmed, I shook my head. "No, I… just fetch me a bowl of water, please. I want to wash my face."

As soon as the girl had disappeared again, my mind began wandering. Highness, she'd called me. I had to be a member of royalty then, but who? One of his wives? Henry's sister Mary perhaps? The agony of ignorance sent my heart into a racing frenzy.

"Here's your water, my Lady," the girl said upon returning.

"Thank you, Cecily," I replied instinctively, immediately stupefied by what I had said. How could I have known her name when I'd never seen her before? And why would I be able to speak in this strange, old-fashioned way? Was this really me or … a part of whomever this body belonged to? My mind seemed to be running amok.

Suddenly, I found myself saying: "I beg your pardon?"

The girl was looking at me with a frown. She had obviously asked me something I had barely taken notice of. "Are you unwell, Your Highness?"

"No, I just…" I had to get to the bowl of water she'd brought me. I had to get her to say my name, or anything, anything really to understand what had happened. "What day is it, again?"

"It's Wednesday, Your Highness."

"I meant the date," I said all too harshly.

Cecily, the maidservant – MY maidservant – withdrew at the brazenness of my tone. She stuttered searching for words. "My lady, I… I'm not sure. It's June, Your Highness. If… if it helps, I can bring you the concoctions the physicians prescribed?"

"Concoctions?" Now it was me frowning. "Whatever for?"

The girl blushed. "The heavy moods that seem to plague you during… that… time of the month. Forgive me, Your Highness, I should not speak of such things."

As if her words had pulled me closer into this strange reality, a sharp pain rushed through me such as I had not felt since puberty. I immediately understood what she meant. That time of the month! And perhaps, I thought taking in a sharp breath, that also explained the lightness of my limbs. Perhaps I wasn't as much of a woman as I had been in my true life, perhaps I was in a girl's body now, not much older than Cecily herself.

"No, thank you. Just make me a…" A tea, I wanted to say, but suddenly remembered it would not be easy for her to take a short detour on her way to the kitchen. A detour to India. Dammit. "Fetch me an ale, would you, please?"

"An ale in the morning? But my lady, what if the King hears about it?"

I sighed as another bolt of pain rushed through me. "You think he would even care? Now, please get me ale."

The girl complied and curtsied, but before she left the room, she said something remarkable.

"I… I do think he would care. I firmly believe His Majesty still loves you with all his heart, my Lady. You are his only child, after all."

The sound of the door closing behind her was akin to the brick that seemed to smash my head in. Well played, dream demon, well played. Of all the women you could have chosen, you took Mary, Bloody Mary, the unwanted daughter, the bastardized princess. The one whose life was fucked up by King Henry from beginning to end. The one history will remember as a brief footnote of burning Protestants. Thanks a lot.

But you're underestimating me. I stand by my point. I'll make this chance count. Unwanted daughter or not, the King will listen to ME. I'll change things for the better, I'll save his queens and children and even himself from the bloody tyrant he's about to become. I'll spare England decades and centuries of religious warfare. Anyone with a modern mind can do it, even in the body of a castaway princess. Just you'll wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – In which I met the King**

It had taken me longer than expected to find out the current date without raising too much suspicion. After all, I wouldn't have wanted my staff to think me delusional or mad. Then again, the fact that I had servants at all quickly led me to believe I had indeed entered Mary's life at a time when not all had been lost yet. And the dull rainy weather outside made me quite confident I was in Wales. That, of course, could only mean one thing.

I was Mary, Princess of Wales. Only legitimate child and heiress presumptive to King Henry VIII.

But not for long. The fact that I was already old enough to suffer my monthly courses meant that I had little time left before Henry would do everything to tear down my mother, Catherine of Aragon, and in turn disinherit, disavow and humiliate me. I could not allow that to happen. At least, the demon had been faithful to its word. I still had a chance, however small it was.

Knowing that my only chance of changing the sad fate looming before me was the King himself, I decided to take action. Like my maidservant Cecily, I was fairly certain Henry still loved his daughter. If I could find a way back into his heart, I might just escape the whole divorce mess unscathed. But in order to do so, I needed his ear.

On the 22nd of June 1532, I took paper and quill and began to write. At first, I was afraid, thinking I would never manage to phrase my wishes adequately. I am no historian, after all, how am I to know how Tudors expressed themselves? But weirdly, the words seemed to form on their own. I assume now that I have not completely replaced the true Princess Mary or her knowledge, but rather absorbed it into me. Whatever she knew, it seems, I now know, but I also haven't forgotten my modern knowledge. At least, that's what I hoped when I sent a letter to London.

Two weeks later, my heart pounding as hard as it had barely done ever before, I found myself stepping into the halls of Hampton Court. Whatever I had written must have moved my kingly father enough for him to wish to speak to me in person. I knew it was my perhaps only chance to avoid years of hardship and misery. I knew what to say, but I was unsure if I would manage to muster the courage. I had to face the infamous Henry VIII of all men!

"Well, what do you know about him? He's not the wife-murdering tyrant yet. He's a powerful man, charming, vain, self-absorbed. Play on his instincts. Make him believe your wishes are his. Shouldn't that do the trick?" I thought. Little did I know what it felt to meet him in person.

When they led me into the King's parlor, my mood oscillated between fear of the tyrant and confidence that he was just a vain man easily swayed by sweet words. But nothing prepared me for the moment when I first saw him. He didn't even need to say anything for me to be absolutely awe-struck. He was there. He was real. He was all powerful. And he was my father.

"Your Majesty," I managed to exhale before dropping into a curtsy so low I almost hit the ground.

After a heart-wrenching eternity, I finally heard his voice. "Rise, Your Highness."

I would have preferred to stay where I was. Looking in his eyes seemed to be too much to bear, but there was no going back now. You do not refuse the King. He looked at me in a way I had never seen before. Was it curiosity? Anger? Indifference? Pride? I could hardly tell.

"You have grown a lot. I hope Ludlow has proved a worthwhile experience," he said, his voice sounding all too distanced and polite.

"Indeed it has. Your Majesty has been most gracious to send me there. And Master Knox, the tutor you gave me, is a diligent and astute teacher," I hurried to reply.

The King nodded absent-mindedly and seemed to turn away, but then changed his mind and stepped closer to me. My heart beat began to race once more.

"In your letter, you expressed your sincerest wish to speak to me in person about… how did you put it? 'Those matters which are most dear to my heart'? Well, child, here you are. Speak now – what know you about the matters of my heart?"

It didn't sound particularly angry, but I felt as if my life was threatened. I hastily cleared my throat and lowered my gaze.

"I know nothing of it, Your Majesty," I assured him. "Which is why I need to hear it from you. I am but a woman, and a young one at that. I know nothing about the ways of the world, but I understand that there are certain matters, certain pressing matters, that trouble your conscience. If it pleases you, Your Majesty, I pray you enlighten me on these matters, for I am but your humble servant and must rely upon your wisdom and guidance."

He seemed to be as surprised and stunned as I was by these words. After a moment of staring at me blankly, he sat down by the table and made a waving gesture for me to sit down as well. For a time, he seemed tongueless, which I took as a good sign. I had already altered history, hadn't I?

"You must understand that this is naught to do with you," he began, much to my surprise. I had expected for him to brag about his rights, to ignore mine and Catherine's feelings, but apparently, he still remembered Mary was his daughter. "It was a misunderstanding of scripture. God will not grant me a son through my marriage to your mother since she was my brother Arthur's wife. But England needs an heir. I need a male heir to secure my line, do you understand? I cannot risk another civil war. If only your mother had seen reason, none of this needed to have happened."

Neglecting to look him in the eyes, I nodded as demurely as I could manage. "I do understand Your Majesty. And although it is of little significance, I must admit it soothes my heart to hear your words. I had thought Your Majesty no longer cared for me."

What he did next truly surprised me. The King leaned over and grabbed my hand, forcing me to look at him.

"Of course I care for you, Mary," he said in a voice that made my heart tremble. "You are my child. As I said, this has naught to do with you."

The tone of his voice almost brought tears to my eyes, which I am sure was not truly my emotion, but Mary's. Yet already, I noticed the line between her and me was beginning to blur. The happiness I felt at Henry's words seemed real. The urge to be loved and cherished by him was all-consuming. With all the reason I could muster, I fought the wish to throw myself at his feet, and continued with my plan.

"But what if it does? Your Majesty, if I explained the matter to the Queen such as you've explained to me now, perhaps she would relent. She would listen to me, of that I am sure."

He withdrew his hand as quickly as he'd offered it. "No," he responded firmly. "No, I will not let you near her."

The shock I displayed at his harsh words was only half feigned. Was this the famous changing Tudor temper? But apparently, seeing my maidenly face so appalled moved the King, too.

"Mary, you must understand that I mean no harm to you. I know you are innocent of any evil and only mean well. But however much I would love to, I cannot say the same about your mother. Her defiance is astounding and outright scandalous. Not only would she continue to poison your heart and mind against me, but she might also plot to spirit you away to Spain and threaten me with that nephew of hers. She has proven time and again just how far she is willing to go in order to get her will. If only I think of Blackfriars, I…"

He stopped, thinking I would not understand what he had alluded to. After all, the famous trial in which Catherine had openly humiliated him had happened when Mary had been only thirteen. But I knew about it, I understood it all. And I understood that I had to act quickly.

"Your Majesty, what if you sent someone with me? Someone whose loyalty is to you and only to you, someone whose staunchness you would have no cause to distrust? I hear that Your Majesty loves no one so dearly as the Duke of Suffolk, my most admirable uncle. Surely, if he were to accompany me, you could rest assured that no harm would come to me or England?"

For a second, I felt unsure about what I had said, but then I saw his mind wondering about my words, and I knew I had won. Of course, I had to promise not to speak ill about him, and not to converse in Spanish or reply to any Spanish remarks of the Queen, but ultimately, he agreed. He would grant me a chance to convince my mother of agreeing to the divorce. I had achieved my first success. But now, I faced another, perhaps even grander obstacle: the pride and motherly love of Catherine of Aragon. Playing her would not be as easy as swaying Henry. Perhaps she couldn't be swayed at all, but at least by trying, I would prove to the King and court that I was an obedient daughter. That there was no reason to cast me off or disinherit me. That I was a political force to be reckoned with.

At least, that was what I hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – In which I broke a Queen's heart**

To be quite frank, I have never been overly fond of Catherine of Aragon. Of course her years of misery and hardship during her youth did not leave me unaffected. Of course I pitied her for losing her husband's love. And most certainly, I felt sympathy for her since she was denied access to her daughter even before her death. That being said, I somehow still disliked her. If she had only given in, I had thought, so much woe and trouble could have been prevented. Why had she been so stubborn? Why did she not accept her husband didn't love her anymore? Today, divorces are no strange scenario, and even though the left party suffers, they eventually have to accept and move on. Then why didn't Catherine?

So naturally, as my carriage was drawing closer to the manor where the still-Queen was residing, I was preparing my arguments. I had to break her iron will somehow lest she drag me down with her. I had to hurt her if necessary. All for England's sake, or so I told myself.

But when I saw her, all of those thoughts vanished. The sheer amount of Mary's love for her was so incredibly overwhelming. Even though the woman waiting for me was a stranger, she was also anything but. She was MY mother. She was the one person loving me unconditionally. If Suffolk's presence beside me had not reminded me that I was constantly being monitored, I would have broken down in tears.

"Mi hija, mi cielo," Catherine began, almost weeping herself. "Soy mas afortunada…"

Duke Charles pushed himself between her and me. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I must implore you not to speak anything other than English. It is the King's will."

She looked at him stupefied, then at me. When I nodded, she sighed and smiled.

"My daughter. My precious darling. Oh how I've prayed to set eyes upon you again," she then began in perfect English.

Now, Suffolk seemed to be content and stepped aside, allowing her to draw closer and embrace me. She smelled of honey and lavender and held me as tightly as no one had ever before, as if she couldn't believe I wasn't a dream. It was the most amazing feeling in the world, and I was actually drawn to tears.

"Let me look at you," she said, herself suppressing tears. "Oh how beautiful you've become. And how tall! But tell me, do you eat well? Do you behave and listen to your tutors? Have you said your prayers daily?"

Smiling, I nodded. Now she sounded like my actual mother. "Yes, mother."

"That is wonderful news. Oh my sweet daughter, you must know that I am forever grateful to Our Lord. I knew that in his mercy, he would one day sway the King's mind. Tell me, has he abandoned his harlot? Am I to return to court?"

My heart froze. "Did… did no one tell you?" I stuttered, helplessly looking at Suffolk. He didn't say a word, but his face told me all I needed to know. I sighed deeply. "Mother, I… I have come here on behalf of His Majesty to… beg you to listen to my Lord Suffolk. His Grace has been authorized by the King to negotiate the matter of your marriage."

Catherine was taken aback by my words. Her gaze flickered between me and Suffolk. "What? Whose words are those, mi hija? What have these vile advisors put into your mouth?"

"Madam, I can assure you…," Suffolk began, but I interrupted him.

"Those are my words, mother," I assured her. Continuing to speak was painful, but I knew it had to be done. "I have spoken to the King. He has explained his matter in detail and I have come to the conclusion that you should reconsider your position."

"Those are not your words. Those are legal terms of Henry's heretic councilors!" Catherine burst out. "Do not trust a word they say, my child, for they are emissaries of Satan! They will stop at nothing to destroy your father and me. They would have you declare me a wanton whore and yourself a bastard, when you are a daughter and granddaughter of kings! Your grandmother was Isabella, the most Catholic warrior queen! You deserve not to be cast aside for the likes of that Boleyn whore!"

I didn't know what to say. Her anger and pain were clearly visible and hard to endure. She was my mother after all, how could I say anything that made her suffer? Brandon, too, seemed at loss for words.

"Daughter," Catherine implored me, drawing closer and holding my hands in hers. "You must not give up, no matter how they threaten or bribe you. You are your father's true and legal heir, and you shall succeed him as queen."

"But I don't want to be queen!"

It was the truth. I had never thought about it, not genuinely, but now I suddenly saw clearly. Yes, I wanted political power, but I preferred being a grey eminence in the back, such as Wolsey or Cromwell. I didn't want the duties and dangers that came with a crown.

"You are young, child, and know not what you say. But I promise you on my immortal soul that one day you shall be queen. I will endure whatever I must to make it so," Catherine said solemnly.

I shook my head. "No, mother. No. This is not what I want. I want to be happy, do you understand that? No scorned by either my father or mother. 'Honor thy father and mother', does it not say so in God's own words? But how can I comply, mother, if you and he tear me apart? How can I be an obedient daughter if you force me to choose a side?"

"Mary, my cielo, please understand that…"

"No!" A wave of anger washed over me, such as I'd never felt before. Tudor temper, I now think, but at that time, it felt perfectly real. "I don't want to understand! I want to love both you and my father! I want happiness, not a crown! And that is all I know: the King will never relent. And if you do not, then I shall be the one to suffer. He will do whatever he must to be free from you, can't you see that? He will do all that is necessary to have a son! And I…"

I want a brother. That's what I wanted to say, even though it clearly wasn't my feeling, it was Mary's. But in the flash of a second, I remembered my own brother, my real life brother, and I understood her. My life would be so much duller without siblings; of course Mary would feel the same. Still, I couldn't shout that into Catherine's face.

A hand pressed to her mouth, Catherine stumbled away from me. Urged by emotions so strong that I could not control them, I staggered behind her and sank to my knees.

"Please, mother, do not leave me. I did not mean to hurt you," I begged like the naïve little sixteen-year-old that I was. "Please."

She stopped and turned around, but her gaze was fixed on Suffolk. "What have you done to her?"

"Your Majesty, once again, I can only assure that the Princess' words are true. She came here by her own will and on her own accord to plead His Majesty's case. Else I would not have agreed to accompany her."

Something strange was going on. There seemed to be a subtext in his words that she had understood, but I hadn't. What kind of understanding was there between them?

Dissatisfied, the Queen nodded. "Very well, then, Your Grace. Since you are already here and prepared, do come and indulge me with the King's words. But do not expect me to give you any other answer than before. I shall not give up what is rightfully mine to adorn the woman who is the scandal of Christendom. It is God and my conscience that I am obliged to first, not any earthly matters."

As they went away, I felt I had lost. I had tried all I could to change her mind, but she would have none of it. And now she would suffer, I would suffer, and in the end, England would, too. I wanted to prevent it, and now I realized that I wanted to prevent it at all costs. Even if I had to pay the ultimate price any child could pay. I rose to my feet and addressed them once more.

"Mother," I said sternly. "I beg you listen to him. And when you decide, think of it not as a matter of truth. Even if all you said about Uncle Arthur was true, it would no longer make any difference. Your decision is not about who is right and who is wrong, or whatever love once was between you and my father. There is only one thing left for you to decide: which do you value more, your pride or my happiness? For you cannot guarantee both."

Catherine and Charles both looked at me as dumbfounded as I had wished them to look. I curtsied politely to drive home the message and went away. A sudden urge to pray overcame me, but I resisted. If my plan worked, it would not be God's will. It would be mine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 5 – In which I went to the most awkward family reunion**

Did I feel a stab of conscience? Certainly. But most of all, I felt proud, and I cannot say whether it was true enjoyment of my partial success or just plain Tudor pride. Did it even matter? I had somehow achieved a little miracle: to get both my newfound parents to move closer to one another. Catherine had listened to Brandon enough to understand that Henry was willing to come to the table, and so she had agreed to come as well. For my sake, as she did not fail to point out coldly.

And so they met in secrecy, for I believe the King did not want anyone to know what was going on. After so many failed attempts at divorcing the Queen, worst of all the public disaster at Blackfriars, he could not stomach another scandal. If anything went wrong this time, no one would know. From the stern way he had me swear to secrecy, I assumed he had not even told any close friends except for the Duke of Suffolk. Perhaps not even his beloved Anne.

When I entered the room, Catherine was already waiting, and from the mixed emotions in her gaze I could not tell whether she was happy to see me again or angry at my words. Could I truly have upset her? Her, the most loving mother in the world? The situation felt increasingly awkward.

Fortunately, after we had exchanged a few polite pleasantries, a knock on the door announced the man we both loved and dreaded. Ever so confident, Henry strode into the room in a most regal fashion. Catherine and I sank to our knees.

"Rise, ladies. I believe it is high time that we face each other and put this matter to rest, once and for all."

Catherine rose in an equally regal way, and for a second I could imagine how well they must have fit together once. In that second, I dreamed every divorce child's dream of seeing their parents reunited, but I quickly remembered that this was not what we were here for. It would be better for us, all three of us, if they finally drew a line under years of struggle and anger.

"Sweet child, you can leave us now," my mother kindly said, but Henry interrupted her.

"No, she will stay. I want her to hear the truth, all of it."

Catherine shook her head. "But, my love, she is just a child. Those are matters most unfit for her ears!"

"I will have her here and so she will stay," Henry insisted firmly. "I'll have no more of these games, Catherine. Whatever you whisper to her in secrecy shall no longer cloud her judgment. I won't have her continue believing that this is about her, that I do not love her, that she is not good enough for me, or whatever pitiful lies you have been telling her."

"I have done nothing of the sort!" Catherine objected loudly. "It is you who has cast her away, the most precious jewel in all your kingdom! Why can you not see that she is God's gift to you? That she is the heir you are looking for?"

Great, I thought. Not even a minute and we're already bickering. I had to do something, fast.

"Can we not sit down?" I asked demurely, and much to my delight, both of them agreed.

"So," Henry then began after we had been seated. "Surely, my beloved daughter has told you about the conversation we have had. Then you must understand that I mean no harm to her, not even to you, although you have been most disloyal and disobedient these past years. Still, I am a merciful man, and I will certainly find it in me to be forgiving, should you finally see the errors of your ways."

"The errors?" Catherine snapped, but looking at my tortured face obviously prevented her from raging any further. "I am your true and loyal wife. Not any other you would cast me aside for. It has pleased God to send me to you, and to give us Mary, the most perfect daughter any man could wish for."

"I know well what treasure she is, do not lecture me," Henry impatiently retorted. "And need I remind you that this is not about her? It is about this sham… this, um, marriage that never was."

So he, too, was toning things down for me. I hadn't expected that, but it would certainly work in my favor. Perhaps this is what they had needed all along – an honest conversation without yelling or threats. Without anyone else's political agenda present.

"Henry, I swear to you, on my immortal soul, that I was never truly your brother's wife. When you had me first, I was as pure as the Virgin Mary," Catherine said almost sweetly.

"And yet you have not given me a son. An heir to rule after me."

"You have Mary," Catherine insisted. "Look at her, our darling daughter, our beautiful creation. Do her tutors not tell you how bright she is? How she excels at music? She is the perfect princess."

Henry obliged her and looked at me. He smiled, and I must admit, I loved it when he smiled at me that way. The confidence it gives you is bone-chilling.

"I know," he said somewhat softer. "But she is no son. You are well-read, madam, so I need not lecture you on what happens when a woman tries to take the English crown. Turmoil. Uprising. Disobedience. It will be civil war all over again. All my father's achievements, all the years of peace – gone. Gone because you were too stubborn to admit you were at fault."

"No, Henry, I beseech you to change your mind. If you would make a public proclamation of the succession, surely the people would understand."

Clenching his fist, Henry was clearly suppressing his anger. "Woman, why will you not remain silent about things you know nothing of? What do you know of Empress Matilda? Henry I. even had parliament swear to accept his daughter, and it still ended in years and years of bloody warfare. Do you want that? Do you want your daughter to wear a crown stained in blood?"

"I don't want to be queen," I suddenly interfered with their conversation. Both of them looked at me as if they had forgotten I was still there. "Please, mother, do not press the matter, for it makes me uneasy. I have no wish for the crown."

"Mary, no, please don't…" Catherine began, but Henry interrupted her with a malign smile on his face.

"Ha. There you have it, she doesn't even want it herself! She is modest and obedient, such as you should be!"

Catherine's face distorted into an angry frown. "These are your words in her mouth! I only want what is best for her, I love her so much. And I love you, Henry, have always loved you, why can't you see that?"

"All I see is defiance and stubbornness! You call that love?" He angrily rose from his chair.

"Father, please," I tried to pour oil on troubled water once more. "Please don't yell. And please accept that my mother only acts because she loves us. Even if you no longer love her as you once did, surely you have no wish to hurt her whatsoever. For all the love that once was between you, can you not have mercy on her?"

His anger seemed to have stopped, at least momentarily, as his gaze flickered between me, my mother, and the table.

"Fine," he then said, but did nothing. Catherine now stared back at him expectantly. With an angry sigh, he finally sat down. "Fine. I accept that you love me, and I feel flattered, but although it causes me grief to say so, I no longer love you. You cannot will my heart to love, Catherine, can you not see that? And even if I did love you, I would still need a son, a legitimate son accepted by parliament and the people. Why will you so obstinately stand in the way of mine and England's happiness?"

"You dare speak of happiness," Catherine hissed, "when it is you who has all but ruined our daughter's happiness. You have thrown her into the dirt like a worn-out garment. You would name her a bastard, and place her even under your dirty little secret, Lord Fitzroy? Is this your ideal future for England? Are we to have no space in your life anymore? Is it only you and your precious little harlot?"

"Do not speak to me like that, wife! I gave you permission to speak freely, not to insult me!"

Catherine smiled darkly. "Ah, but there it is: I am your wife. You are saying so yourself."

"And I did not bring you here to belittle me or twist my words," Henry added even more angrily, his voice booming through the entire room by now. "I thought we were here to negotiate, but instead I see I am to be mocked by you. But no, madam, no. This is the last time you'll ever cross me, I swear to God."

Something inside me snapped. I don't know what it was, and if it had only been me acting, I would have come up with a different idea. Perhaps it was Mary's Tudor temper, or perhaps the anger any teenager feels, or perhaps Henry had just set such a perfect example to follow. Be that as it may, I rose so quickly that my chair fell over with a raucous thwacking sound.

"None of you know anything!"

Yes, well, remembering these words, I'll definitely opt for the adolescence theory. Puberty had not gone unnoticed even by a princess, and apparently, Mary had wanted to give them a piece of her mind for so long.

"You're right, this isn't about me, it is never about me! You don't care for me at all, I'm just a chess piece in your power play! You don't concern yourself with what I want, or what I feel. You only worry about yourselves and your pride and England and what happened thirty years ago at Ludlow. Why would you even care? It is a horrible place! It's cold and swampy and lonely and I hate it there! You sent me there to be forgotten, to be…"

It was my father who tried to interrupt me by going round the table. "Mary, you…"

"No!" I practically yelled at him. Yelling at the King, was I mad? "No, I don't want to hear any more excuses! All you do is quarrel and squabble, but not for an instant would you look past your own interests and care for me. I am of no use here, since my opinion is clearly of no consequence. I'll leave you to your altercations!"

And with that, I stormed out. It didn't take me more than a few corners, followed by one or two angry shouts of Henry, to realize that I had just thrown my first Tudor tantrum. Hooray, I wanted to scream, but then it also dawned upon me what I had done. I had upbraided the King and Queen of England like a nasty teenager who's upset with being grounded. This was no minor thing. Some would say it was treason. Panicking, I ran to the rooms I had been assigned to, chased away my maids and locked all doors and windows.

It was hours later that someone knocked on my door.

"Your Highness, it is I, Brandon. Will you let me in?"

I had been pacing up and down in frenzy for some time, so my voice must have sounded quite shrill. "Have you been sent by my father?"

"I… I mean you no harm. Please, may we speak in person?"

I trusted him. Unwise decision, perhaps, given that he was my father's creature above all, and would do anything the King asked of him. What if he had been tasked with sending me to the Tower? But on the other hand, he seemed to genuinely like me. He was my uncle by marriage. And his voice sounded very convincing.

He entered with a worried frown on his face. "Are you well, Princess?"

"Of course I am not," I retorted. "Have you not heard what has happened? Good God, I think that by now all the castle will have heard. Tell me, Your Grace, what of my parents? Are they still debating?"

"My princess, forgive me, but I must ask: whatever has happened between you and Their Majesties?"

"I… um…" I blushed. Really, like some stupid little maiden, I blushed.

"Well then," Suffolk replied rather matter-of-factly. "Whatever you may or may not have said, it seems to have worked a miracle. Their Majesties have agreed to sign a binding contract on the morrow."

My eyes widened. "What? How? Are you sure? What does it say?"

He smiled warmly. "That I do not know. But I can assure you that Their Majesties ultimately parted on peaceful terms. As I said: whatever words you used must have come from the tongues of angels. There is to be peace at last."

"Thank God," I exhaled. And for the first time, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there truly was a God watching me. How else could a miracle such as this have happened?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – In which I was introduced to Anne**

Triumph. All I had hoped and aspired to achieve, I had succeeded at. I had gambled high and now it would pay off as I returned to London in triumph. Henry had returned before me, wanting to prepare a feast to officially announce the bargain they had struck. I was elated.

As I was called before the King's council, I straightened my shoulders and pushed aside any doubts. I was actually to face the courtiers, to be thrown to the wolves. I would see eye to eye with the political elite of this country. If I showed doubt, fear, or hesitation, they would surely devour me. I had chosen this path for myself. There was no backing out now.

"Her Highness, the Princess Mary," a herald announced me to the gathered crowd.

The King, seated high atop the dais, smiled at me proudly. Not far away, I recognized Suffolk. The other important men stood close by, yet I – or rather Mary's memories – could not recollect them. Still, I assumed that some of them scrutinizing me most coldly would be Norfolk and Thomas Boleyn.

As I sank to my knees before the dais, I noticed a raven haired woman in the crowd. Although I had never seen her before, I instinctively felt that she was Anne Boleyn, my would-be nemesis. I tried my best to look regal.

"Lords and Ladies, the matter smothering our conscience for so long has finally been resolved," the King proclaimed. "Queen Catherine has discovered her love for Our Lord to be so great that she can no longer bear to be apart from him. She has expressed her wish to retreat to a nunnery, which, although it saddens us deeply, we have graciously granted. Archbishop Cranmer?"

A priest stepped into the spotlight. For the briefest of moments, I remembered that he would be real Mary's archenemy. That she would burn him alive. Little did he know now, however, what kind of threat the girl kneeling before him could have been.

"It is by the grace of God that Their Majesties' marriage shall be declared over, since Her Majesty Queen Catherine shall now be a bride of Christ. Hence, the Great Matter shall be put to rest. Her Majesty has stated her own free will and signed all the documents."

Henry smiled broadly.

"And it is to our utmost pleasure that we now officially welcome the Princess Mary back to our court. We confirm her as Princess of Wales and thus our heir and successor until a son from a legitimate marriage is born to us," he said confidently and rose, opening his arms wide. "Welcome back to court."

Those were the terms of their agreement. My father had dropped every charge of an incestuous marriage or my bastardy, and in turn my mother had accepted to take the veil. Neither had liked the idea in the beginning, for as I'd said, they would have never given in. At least not in real life, but this time, they had been shown the consequences of their suffering daughter, and apparently, it had been enough to change their minds. At least, that was what Catherine had told me before we departed.

"Why?" I had asked, to which she had gently smiled and answered: "Because you are my daughter and you were right. I thought I was meant to be queen and clung to a dream that long since passed me by. This has gone on for far too long, and I have lost sight of what my heart longs for the most. It is you. It will always be you. You will have your father's love and all the happiness in the world. And this way, you can still be Queen. I will pray for the day that your father sees the truth, that you will be his worthy successor."

There and then, I finally understood why she had fought so hard. It was not just fear of what would happen to her or a queen's pride or the misunderstood notion that she could coerce Henry to love her again. Perhaps in history, it had been all of that, but I had forced her to choose, and she had chosen the most important motivation. It was me. I loved no one so much as her when I realized.

With all the courtiers' eyes still lingering on me, I rose, smiling at my father's words and trying to blush coyly. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"No," he replied loud enough for many to hear. "Father."

Then he kissed my forehead, and I swear, I loved no one but him that moment. For so long I had wondered why wife after wife and mistress after mistress had fallen for his charms. Why his courtiers had put up with his erratic antics. Now I knew. Now I completely understood. When he loved you, it was the best feeling in the world. He was the sun, the light in your life. He was the King.

"Come, Mary, sit by me. And you, all of you, rejoice! This is a joyful day for us and all of England!"

I complied all too eagerly, trying to maintain a regal posture as I said down on a smaller chair beside him. Now, courtiers began to flock to us, to beleaguer him with courtly things and waste his time with idle talk. To be honest, I think most of them were only eager to catch a glimpse of me and to present themselves to me, as I was now in Henry's graces once more. Within the blink of an eye, I had turned from forgotten princess to useful asset in their opinion. And for now, I would play along. I would learn about them whatever there was to know before I made a move.

After a while, I decided to pre-empt some of their plans. If I had to play chess against so many other players, I had to anticipate their moves. The next one was quite obvious, and I knew it involved one of the most powerful figures of them all: the queen.

"Your Majesty… father," I began meekly. "Am I allowed to utter a wish?"

He smiled at me disarmingly. Gods, I could perfectly understand what Catherine and Anne and all of them saw in him. "Of course," he said in a honeyed voice. "Anything you wish shall be yours."

"I feel honored to be presented to so many of your trusted courtiers and councilors. But I was wondering if you might introduce me to the Lady Anne?"

It was bold. Henry, too, thought me bold, I could see it in his face. He leaned over to me and whispered: "Mary, what do you have in mind?"

"I mean no ill, father," I hurried to assure him. "Only I was led to believe that she is dear to your heart, and as such, I should get to know her. So that I can see the qualities you see in her and that she may be dear to my heart also."

His eyes told me I had him wrapped around my finger. I'd flattered him, which actually was easier than I imagined, but then again, I didn't think this would be the challenge of my day. The true challenge was what would happen next.

The King complied and called Anne to the dais. As she curtsied before us, I took a moment to look at her in detail. And yes, she was not the beauty my mother had once been. But she was younger, livelier, and certainly more graceful. Whatever any scholar had ever said about her did her no justice. She was a presence, comely and magnetic. I knew what Henry saw in her, but at the same time, a sharp pinch of jealousy flashed through me. Had I not just won back his favor? Was I ready to share it with anyone, let alone Anne Boleyn?

"Lady Anne," my father began. "May I introduce to you my beloved daughter Mary?"

Anne curtsied once more, this time in my direction. "Your Highness." If she felt anything at having to call me so, she did not show. I could see disgust in another man's eyes, however, and I assumed it must be her overly ambitious father.

"Lady Anne," I said courteously. "I am delighted to meet you."

Henry looked at her full of expectation. I had played the ball. Now I would see whether she chose peace or whether she would fight me at all cost.

"The honor is all mine, Your Highness," she said sweetly. "I believe I must thank you for interfering with the former Queen on His Majesty's behalf."

The way she stressed 'former' was not lost on me, but I decided to let it pass. "I only did what my conscience compelled me to. After all, I desire nothing so much as to please the King. Surely, you yourself can understand that feeling?"

Henry, I hoped, had not noticed the sharpness in my tone, but Anne clearly had. She smiled even more fervently and nodded.

"Of course. His Majesty's happiness is my only command."

"I am pleased to hear it, Lady Anne. If things be so, I take it we shall soon be the best of friends."

Anne curtsied. "The pleasure would be all mine, Your Highness." Then she politely took her leave of us.

It took the King no longer than two seconds after she was gone to confront me. "What do you make of her, my pearl?"

The affection in his tone sent shivers down my spine, even though I had to share the affection with another. I smiled at him. "I think she is perfectly gracious and kind. She carries herself with great dignity."

"Yes, she does. She is a most loyal and loving subject," Henry agreed.

And in less than a year, she'll be your wife, with or without me, I added in my thoughts. It was another of my mother's demands: That he would wait at least six months to remarry, as was customary in a time of mourning. As if she wanted to be dead for him. I considered it strange, but somehow understandable. She would not allow him to replace her so easily.

Then I remembered something. Before his marriage to Anne, Henry had invested her with a title to make her appear less common. If it was inevitable, anyway, why not use it to my advantage?

"Perhaps Your Majesty would be well advised to repay her kindness and loyalty by granting her a title of her own. A woman of her poise should not be a mere knight's daughter, don't you think?"

He looked at me surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Forgive me, father, I spoke of things I know nothing of. Only I thought that… no. Please, forgive me. I'll say no more about it."

As I lowered my gaze to appear submissive, I could still see the way he looked at me. He wasn't angry or upset as I pretended he was. Instead, he was clearly taken with my idea. I could only hope that my words would be a catalyst to what had actually happened in history. If, in due time, I would witness him creating her Marquess of Pembroke, I would have my answer, and I would know that if she could play him, so could I. And besides, she would then be indebted to me. If there was no way to prevent her from becoming Queen and usurping a part of my father's heart, at least I would make sure she'd do it on my terms. Let it be to her to choose whether she wants to be my enemy or not.

For in the end, it comes down to this: I wasn't sent here to stand by and let things happen. I was sent to make a difference, and that I'll do, with or without Anne's help.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – In which I stood my ground**

It would be easy for you to call me neglectful or inconsiderate. From a distance, things appear to be so much clearer and simpler than they are in truth. With the wisdom of hindsight, things that were tremendously difficult at a time seem all but elementary. And yet, for me, nothing was easy.

To say that the time after my return to court had been strenuous and taxing would be a serious understatement. Suddenly, everyone seemed to be out to get me. Half the court wanted to gain my favor and push my position as a Catholic heir to the crown, while the other half schemed and weaseled their way to my destruction in favor of a more reformed succession. Evading the dangers lurking behind every corner may appear easy now because I managed to succeed, but it certainly cost much time and effort. So you may forgive me that I forgot some (unfortunately important) things. Like Chapuys.

Of course I knew the ambassador who had been a true friend and supporter of both Catherine and Mary, and in the beginning I had spared a thought or two on how to treat him. But after returning to court and having to fight my way through, I simply forgot to ask him to walk with me or any of the sort. I forgot. But he did not forget me, as it seems, and on Christmas, he saw his chance to confront me about the matter that was obviously troubling his soul.

"Your Highness," he addressed me submissively and with a warm smile.

"A very happy Christmas to you, Excellency," I replied joyfully, still forgetful about the fact that I should have come to him long ago. "I hope you are looking forward to the New Year?"

"I am curious indeed, Your Highness. I trust you must be looking forward to visit with your saintly mother, Queen Catherine, for your birthday in February?"

I frowned. How could he know what I had planned? Did the man have spies in my household?

"I most certainly am. His Majesty has graciously allowed me leave from court before his wedding in March," I returned.

Chapuys sighed and sat down in a corner, all but urging me to do the same. He waited to be sure that no one was listening to us.

"Your Highness, in all faith, I must ask you about this matter. My master has been troubled by the news of his aunt's retirement, and he is none too happy about her sudden replacement. With the King elevating his concubine to marquess, he may want to appeal to foreign monarchs, but the Emperor will not be deceived. He knows how painful the situation must be for you, his cherished cousin, and will do whatever is necessary to ease your mind."

In that moment, I realized I had neglected the Spanish matter for too long. There were people who cared for Mary, or at least her claim to the crown, and they had gone unchecked for months. How could I have forgotten?

"I pray you tell my cousin, the Emperor, that I am forever grateful to be in his thoughts and high esteem," I carefully replied, smiling all the time. "Yet I also ask you to tell him that no intervention will be necessary. My parents have come to a compromise. The King must do as he will in his realm, while I shall obey his will."

Chapuys seemed surprised to say the least, so to drive home the point, I added:

"And my beloved mother is now a bride of Christ and no longer Queen. You would do well to remember that and not to refer to her as such, for some might consider it treason."

"Your Highness, you do not have to feel threatened by anyone. I am your loyal servant and would never betray your trust. You may speak freely with me. And as your friend, I can assure you that certain people at court, certain important people, have expressed their utmost displeasure at the King's nuptial plans. Do not fear your cause is lost, for there are those willing to support it. That would strengthen your claim to the crown."

I understood that he meant well, and that most likely, he only wanted the best for me. But his good will was threatening the course of history, and thus, me. I had to stop him.

"Excellency," I began, softly putting a hand on his. "I know that you are my most loyal friend. My mother and I are and shall always be grateful for your support. But I can assure you in all honesty that those certain important people you have mentioned should reconsider their stance. My father, the King, will wed the Marquess of Pembroke come the New Year. Their son will inherit the crown. It is God's will."

"But, Princess Mary, surely he wills you to be Queen. He must will it, for how else will this country ever return to obedience and sanity? To the true religion?"

I drew a little closer. Obviously, I would not deter him by assuring him that I was alright with the royal marriage, so I had to try another option.

"Please, Excellency. I urge you to silence those who would speak against the royal marriage, for they would endanger me and my position. I am where I am because my mother sacrificed her marriage. This sacrifice must not be undone by anyone, even if they mean well." My tone had become extremely serious by now. "I ask, no, I beg of you to swear this to me: that neither you nor any of our friends will act against my father's upcoming marriage. Know that I am forever grateful for your support, but in this cause, I must act alone and as my conscience dictates. God shall see to the rest."

He stared at me in disbelief while I spoke, but after I had ended, he gave me a warm, paternal smile.

"As you wish, sweet lady. If it be your will, I should never act against it," he promised. His voice sounded sincere, but I felt I could not trust his promise with regard to other people. He would perhaps abstain from encouraging plots against Anne, but he would most likely not speak against them either. His love for my cause was too great, even if I myself tried to dissuade him. What else could I do but urge him not to interfere? I was helpless.

And then I heard her laugh. Hers was a charming laughter that easily soared high above the heads of the mingling crowd. I saw Anne standing in between courtiers, acting like the perfect schemer that she was. So I thought: why not use her?

"Excellency, if you will excuse me for a moment?" I said, not waiting for a response to be given.

I strode through the room, courteously nodding here and there to the nobles bowing before me. Chapuys of course would not let me out of sight, I hoped. For a brief glance, I managed to turn around and even see him staring at me while speaking to a court servant in a very low voice. Good, I thought. Let him see me.

My arrival interrupted Anne's cheerful conversation as both she and her three male companions sank to their knees.

"Your Highness," they said in unison.

"Lady Anne," I replied smiling. "Forgive my intrusion, but I simply had to compliment you on your dress. It looks absolutely lovely. You must let me know where you had it made. Is it French fashion?"

She smiled, and if she wasn't an absolutely consummate actress, that smile was genuine. I remembered she was reported to be fond of fashion and the French both.

"Indeed it is, Your Highness. Although my seamstress is an Englishwoman, she knows quite well the tastes of the French court."

"Then I can only imagine what your wedding dress will look like," I said cheerfully, but loud enough for bystanders to hear. Hopefully, one of them would tell Chapuys instantly, if he did not even hear it himself. "I wonder if your seamstress would be too busy to prepare a dress for me also. Do you think that, given enough time for preparation, she could make my dress for the wedding to match? I would not want to seem inappropriately dressed."

Anne's conversational partners had become eerily silent, but by now, even she seemed stunned for a moment. She scrutinized me with her dark orbs as if she tried to figure out which game I was playing.

"I shall ask her about it. Surely she can make space for the Princess of Wales," she finally retorted.

Suddenly, one of the men seemed to have woken up. He cleared his throat and said: "Perhaps Your Highness would like to accompany my sisters on their next visit to the seamstress?"

Anne seemed annoyed for the briefest of moments before putting on another smile and turning to him. "Ah, Your Highness, I believe you may not have met my brother George yet."

He bowed once more while I could not hide a smile caused by their sibling squabbles. It reminded me so much of me and my real life brother.

"No, I am afraid I have not had the pleasure. And thank you for your suggestion, Lord George. It would be a most welcome occasion for me to get to know you better, Lady Anne. We are to be family, after all."

Anne gave me a honeyed smile. "Yes, we are. What a lovely idea, George. I shall arrange for it come the New Year. Would that suit Your Highness?"

"It would," I nodded, turning over my head to see what Chapuys was doing. He was quickly talking to a different courtier than before; one that I could swear had been in my vicinity not moments ago. "Then I shall leave you to enjoy the feast. Lady Anne, my lords, I wish you a happy Christmas."

I could hear them talk about me as I left. In the days that would follow, many should whisper about the exchange between Anne and me, and what it meant. Was it an offer of peace? Was it a silent declaration of war? Was it just petty pleasantries? Even the King must have heard the rumors, for he chose to dine with me a few days later and mention the topic.

"And why would I not?" I replied as he asked me the question everyone was silently asking. "The Lady Anne is to be your wife and thus my stepmother. As your loving and obedient daughter, I consider it my duty to befriend her. If I caused her or you any grief, I am beyond sorry. Was I wrong in accepting Lord George's proposal?"

"No, no," Henry assured me smiling. "Not at all, darling. I am very satisfied with you behaving just as any duteous daughter would. Of course I want you to befriend the Lady Anne. After all, the two of you are most dear to my heart in all the world. Nothing would please me more than for you to love her, and her to love you."

I smiled dutifully. "Then I shall strive for nothing but to please her and be a kind and obedient stepdaughter. And I shall pray to our Lord that she will be blessed with sons and daughters to fill the royal cradle."

"Wonderful." Henry smiled even more broadly and returned to eating his meat, but after he had cut down a slice, he put away the knife once more. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course," I assured him, this time absolutely honestly. "I know that Your Majesty has been denied sons for too long through no fault of your own. And most certainly you know that I have no wish for the crown. I can only hope the Lady Anne bears you sons to inherit the kingdom, and I do long for little brothers and sisters. Little Edwards and Elizabeths. To have them is my greatest wish in all this world… apart from pleasing Your Majesty, of course."

"Edward, huh?" It was not the answer I had expected, but I liked the way he laughed after saying it.

"Is something wrong with the name?" I said in feigned confusion.

"No, nothing, sweetheart," he said and wolfed down his slice of meat. "Edward it shall be then."

I nodded submissively and added under my breath: "And Elizabeth."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – In which I made new friends**

The New Year had come and passed so quickly. After a while, I stood silently and realized in awe that months had passed since my triumphal return to court. Strangely though, it had not felt like months, more like days. So many new and exciting things had happened that I had barely noticed how the sand had run through the hourglass.

In January, Anne had made good on her promise to take me to the seamstress. She had been courteous and polite enough, but still, we had not found a common ground other than our love for my father. And of that I was sure quite rapidly: that she truly did love him. Whatever faults she had, simply marrying him for power and fame was none of them. But, as I said, we did not manage to get on more amiable terms.

Her sister, though, was another matter altogether. Mary Boleyn was perfectly sweet right from the moment I was introduced to her. At first, I was hesitant to buy her charms because she was a Boleyn, so her kindness was most likely just a clever scheme. But after spending a few hours with her, I realized she had to be an even more accomplished actress than Anne to pull off that stunt. No, Mary was genuine. And, God, was she nice.

We would meet again at court after the visit, and whenever we met, we would talk. At first, those were just short exchanges of pleasantries, but after a while (and especially in the weeks before the wedding), she would come to visit and eat cakes. What can I say? It definitely came as a surprise to me, but Mary and I have become friends.

And how could we not? Since I entered this alternate past, everyone acted weirdly around me, always driven by some kind of agenda. My mother wanted to see me as Queen, Henry wanted obedience and kindness, Anne wanted me out of her way, and most of the court wanted to know what game I was playing. But not Mary, she simply enjoyed my company, and I hers. She asked me about my feelings considering my father's remarriage to her sister, not because her ambitious father was using her as a spy, but because she cared for my emotions.

"I am fine with it," I assured her. "I understand why you would think otherwise, but I have no objections to this marriage. My parents are no longer married and as you may have heard, I was part of the negotiations. I understand why it had to be done."

"You are to be admired for such bravery. I know it would pain me if my parents were ever to part, even though I am a woman grown." Mary smiled at me. "Still, can you accept my sister as your mother's replacement? It must surely be hard to have her bow to you now knowing that soon, you will bow to her."

Wasn't she lovely?, I thought and nodded. "Of course it may seem odd… but I suppose that is how it is. I shall get used to it. And please, let me assure you again that I bear this marriage no ill will. His Majesty seems to be very happy with your sister, and she seems very fond of him. I ought to be glad that he has found someone to match his inclinations. And of course I shall pray night and day for her to bear him strong, healthy children."

Mary nodded, too, but more slowly. She seemed to ponder whether or not to tell me what was on her mind. Anne, I thought, would have simply shrugged it off, but Mary was unlike her sister. She felt the urge to be honest at all cost.

"Anne prays for the same. She wishes so much to give the King a son to be his living image," Mary said very carefully. I did not know whether it was because she had been Henry's mistress, too, or whether she feared exposing her sister's secrets. "Like any woman, she is troubled by the notion that she might lose a child or bear but daughters. And I fear… um…"

"What my father would do," I completed her sentence matter-of-factly. "Do you wish to know what I think?"

Mary nodded again, this time even more slowly. She seemed quite afraid the conversation might prove harmful to someone she loved. Anne, most likely.

"The King would be disappointed if your sister gave him a daughter. He has me and he loves me, but I am not enough for a King. He needs a son to rule after him," I replied bluntly. "But that does not mean she needs to fear him. His Majesty would see past his disappointment and look to the wonderful present she has given him. Surely, if her daughter was anything like your sister, he would love her just as much as he loves the Lady Anne. Tell her not to fret, for it would be harmful for any child she may carry. If she wishes to please the King, she has to bear him healthy children. Daughter or not, sons will one day follow."

"I know you would say something wise," Mary said assuaged. "And if I may ask a favor, do not tell my sister we spoke about the matter. She worries far too much about what others would speak of her."

I shook my head and offered her another cake. "Certainly not. I would not betray your trust, for I consider you my friend. And I hope that, in time, your sister, too, will see me as a friend."

"She will," Mary assured me. "She is very much enamored with the King right now, but within time, she will come to realize the charming young lady you are. She is lucky to have you as her stepdaughter."

"You're flattering me."

Mary laughed. "No, not at all, Your Highness. I certainly know I'd consider myself a lucky woman to have you as part of my family. Which, by extension, I soon will, won't I? So I am lucky indeed."

I nodded and smiled, but inside, I was unhappy. Why did he not marry her? The sentence repeated itself over and over again in my head. Why did my father fall out of love with Mary? Yes, yes, I know, she was sweet and pliable where Anne was a wildfire. And she was probably neither as smart nor as witty as Anne, but still, why? I would have loved to have her as my stepmother, to see her cradle my brothers and sisters, and most of all, to bow to her. Because somehow, she was right after all. It did sting, this idea of having to bow before Anne, not because I could not accept anyone above me, but because she was so… arrogant. Haughty. Because she seemed like she would enjoy so much seeing me curtsy before her. As if she wanted to put me in my place. Of course, possessing a modern mind, I understood she was not acting out of malice. She was probably just afraid of what harm I could cause her and her future children, of how much power I had over Henry's heart. Rationally, I understood all of it. But it still aggravated me; a feeling that would continue until I had bowed to her a few times after the wedding. I couldn't stay angry for long when everyone was so elated.

Most happy (despite it being Anne's motto) of all was my father. Gosh, I swear he was never more cheerful and charming than in the months after his wedding. He had all he wanted: a large crowd of Londoners had jubilated and exulted for him and his new wife. He finally had Anne, the woman he had madly loved for years. And soon, he would have his heir.

By June, Anne's pregnancy could no longer be hidden, so a public announcement was made. A day before that, my father had shared the news with me, although it didn't really come as a surprise. I assumed that they had finally consummated their relationship even before the wedding, for as the pregnancy progressed, it seemed likely she would give birth in September. Perhaps fate wanted Elizabeth born no matter what? Still, I couldn't be sure whether or not it was the same pregnancy, or whether my interference had changed the course of history.

"I have never seen the King any happier," I honestly recounted to Mary Boleyn when I met her a few days after my conversation with my father. "He cannot seem to speak about anything else. The jousts and banquets he has planned will be superb. He is even having a new cradle made especially for the baby."

"My sister is joyful as well. We must thank the Lord that he has blessed them so quickly," Mary returned smiling.

I nodded. "I can assure you that the Queen and the babe in her womb are part of my every daily prayer." Of course I didn't actually pray, but I had gotten used to playing the part. "And the King, of course. He was almost giddy with excitement when he told me about my new baby brother. Once he's born, when I need no longer be Princess of Wales, he said he'll start looking for suitors."

Mary clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, praise the Lord. You must be so delighted to hear it!"

I frowned. "Hear what? Oh… the suitors, you mean?"

I had rather mentioned it by accident, along the way. How could I discuss the topic with her? Part of me wanted to because I had barely thought about anything else after my father had mentioned it, but I knew I couldn't. How could I explain to her my thoughts about the matter? That I didn't want a foreign marriage, for example, because that would lead me away from my mission to change England's history? That I wanted a husband who would not keep me from political work, but encourage me to do so? That, in truth, I did not feel comfortable at all with the idea of marrying someone I barely knew, since it was no common practice where I came from? Well, I couldn't.

So instead of relieving my troubled mind, I said: "I… couldn't know."

"Trust me, you will love being married. Surely the King will allow only the finest of suitors to court you, princes and dukes, or kings, even! And you will love being a mother."

"Ah, I'm not sure about it," I replied instinctively, instantly realizing that what I had said was far too modern to sound normal for her.

Instead of looking at me quizzing, however, Mary touched my hands gently. "Forgive me, my Princess, but I want to assure you that there is nothing to fear. You will be a wonderful mother. Do not let them frighten you with stories about the dangers and pains of childbirth. Whatever they say, it is the Lord's will that we pass through the ordeal, and he built us to match. When they place the tiny bundle in your arms, you know you'll never love anyone as fiercely, not even your husband."

Her kindness forced me to smile even though my mind was still troubled. She couldn't know I had never particularly cared for having children. All she tried to do was ease my mind, and strangely, it worked somehow.

"Thank you, Lady Mary. No one here speaks to me as sincerely as you. I hope I can one day repay your kindness. If there is anything I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."

In this moment, I hoped that she would mention her uncertain nuptial situation. I knew that she would soon secretly marry William Stafford without royal consent and hoped to prevent the damage it would cause her family. Did she already know him? Had matters been set in motion before I was able to stop them? But unfortunately, she said nothing, and I had to be content with waiting.

Then came the 7th of September. I had longed for and dreaded the day at the same time. If Anne went into labor today, I knew what would happen. I would have the smartest, sweetest sister there ever was, but my father would be upset. I couldn't decide what to wish for, and in my uncertainty, I found myself actually praying, not just pretending. I just didn't know what to pray for.

If there is a God, or some kind of fate, or even just chance, they took away that decision from me. They chose that what needs to happen will happen, and so, after many hours of listening to Anne's painful cries echoing from inside the birthing chamber, my little sister was born.

Elizabeth.

Anne had not wanted me inside the chamber, but some time after her cries had ebbed away, her sister Mary came out to wash and clothe the baby. She seemed exhausted but happy.

"Meet your sister, Your Highness," she said proudly. "She is the very image of the King."

I looked at the little red bundle and suddenly understood what Mary had wanted to tell me. From an impartial point of view, it was just a tiny greasy crimson creature wailing at the top of its lungs. But my heart spoke a different language. When I saw the babe, I KNEW she was my sister, I felt that we were connected, and I was overcome by the irresistible urge to protect her, come what may. If this was what it felt like to have children of your own, then Mary was right, and I would make a decent mother.

"Hello little Elizabeth," I murmured and swore to myself that in this life, she would not end up motherless and unhappy. Perhaps she would not been Good Queen Bess, but she would have a prosperous life. I was determined to make sure she would.

Of course, achieving it wouldn't be easy. Real life Elizabeth had faced so many woes at such a young age, not few of them originating in the person of her own father. And as I watched him enter Anne's chamber and leave again with a none-too-pleased face, I realized fighting for my sister would be no simple feat.

"Prepare the christening. Cranmer is to be her godfather as was planned. Still, cancel the jousts and the banquets," he ordered the Duke of Suffolk, who had been waiting in the antechamber along with some ladies and me. "Send Linacre to look after the Queen regularly. I wish for her swift recovery."

"Father, please," I interrupted him in quite an impolite fashion, all but pushing myself in his way. "Please, do not cancel the feasts. She is your daughter."

The King looked at me sternly. I almost expected him to scold me like a naughty child, but then his face softened.

"Mary, I know you have a kind heart, but she is no prince. Jousts are only in order for princes," he explained.

"But the banquets and the fireworks? I heard you had them when I was born."

His expression became more serious again. "You are the Princess of Wales."

"And Elizabeth is a Princess of England. A Tudor princess. And my sister. Can the Princess of Wales not ask such a favor for her only sister?"

Brandon looked at me dumbfounded, and my father, too, seemed to be surprised. The half-smile in the corner of his mouth led me to believe that he liked it when I stood my ground. Or when I mentioned our Tudor blood, of which he was so proud.

"Fine. Suffolk, cancel the jousts, but nothing else. Have it announced that the Queen has given birth to a bonny princess for England," he said regally. Then, after watching Brandon bow and leave, he patted my shoulder and smiled. "You are right, sweetheart. Elizabeth is a fine princess. If she is anything like her sister, she will surely make me proud."

I curtsied before him. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I know you shall not be disappointed. Tudor women are a force to be reckoned with. And who knows, this little girl might one day preside over empires."

"Yes, she might," Henry agreed. "Now go and prepare yourself for the feasting. In absence of the Queen, you shall host them as my lady, and I expect only perfection. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." I curtsied again and smiled. I could see he was still unhappy about the outcome of the birth, but I had managed to soften the blow somehow and appeal to his pride. Within time, I knew, he would come to love Elizabeth just as fiercely as I loved her. And besides, with no brother as of yet, I was still Princess of Wales, and therefore he would forget about my marriage for some time. Time enough for me to scout for potential candidates that would not interfere with my plans.

God, I thought as I rushed to prepare for the banquet, I really need a spy of some sort. How am I to find a suitable husband without information?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – In which I lost my temper**

Finding a husband was much more difficult than I anticipated. To be quite frank, I had never truly pondered the matter in my real life before. Of course, there was this distant notion of future wedding bells, but I had never truly been with a man I had considered marriage material. After all, in my time, marriage is a matter of love (or perhaps fiscal convenience). And, what's more, it's optional. Nobody has to get married where I come from, no law requires you to get married, your parents will do no more than nag you, and there is no big financial drawback of staying single.

In Tudor times, I found the matter to be quite different. Nobody seemed to question that I would eventually marry, the only question was who. And that, too, was not about love, and I had no illusions to the contrary. My wedding would have a political background and I would have small chances of being involved in the choosing process.

Actually, I would have been glad to have my parents choose for me since I thought they would only have their daughter's best interests at heart. Both Catherine and Henry truly loved their daughter, no matter how difficult their personalities were at times. But they would decide in real Mary's interests, not mine. I did not care for being a queen, nor did I care to have a man with an old name, great riches or vast estates. I needed someone who would allow me to partake in politics, to affect history. Perhaps I could groom him to let me do as I please, seduce and ensnare him to accept my will. But first, I had to find suitable men who would not force me out of England.

"Excellency, I am in need of your assistance," I hence told Eustace Chapuys.

"Whatever you wish, my Princess. I am at your command."

That was why I chose him to help me. I knew his preferences would interfere with my plans, but he was still the only one at court who was absolutely devoted to me. I could rely on the fact that he would never betray my trust as long as he thought he was working in my favor. Plus, he was a well-connected man with friends abroad and in England. I had use for him.

"Senor Chapuys, surely you must have heard the rumors that the King has begun to look for suitors… for my hand," I began hesitantly.

Chapuys nodded. "I may have heard about it. Your saintly mother will be very pleased to hear it, for she desires nothing so much but your happiness."

"I know, Excellency, and that is why I require your help. It is far too great a matter for the King to decide unassisted. He should be presented with appropriate suggestions. I would hate for others to whisper names to him, names only meant to be detrimental to my cause. Do we have an understanding?"

"Certainly, Your Highness," Chapuys agreed eagerly. "I should not like to see you forced into a marriage to some lowborn reformer. The Concubine's family would stop at nothing to see you replaced by that brat."

I bit my tongue not to correct him about Elizabeth. It wasn't the time for arguing, I told myself.

"Which is why I must ask you to inquire on my behalf. I know it must sound odd to you, Excellency, but I need you to find possible candidates before someone else can."

He smiled. "Of course. I will make sure only fine princes shall be presented to you."

"But bear in mind that I cannot marry abroad," I told him and noticed his surprise. Fortunately, I had anticipated that kind of reaction and had prepared my arguments accordingly. "I am still Princess of Wales. If I am ever to be Queen, I cannot marry a foreign king. The English would never accept it. No, if I am to be their sovereign, they cannot see me inferior to anyone else, not even my husband. I need someone willing to come to England. Or else suitable English Lords. The people would love for a Queen to marry one of their own, would they not?"

He seemed to ponder the matter long and hard. My words had ruled out the French princes, which I knew would please the ambassador, but his best option, Luis of Portugal, was also discarded. So, too, was Mary's real life husband Philip of Spain. That was no big tragedy to my mind since I considered him a disgusting turncoat, offering marriage to Elizabeth only days after her sister's death. I certainly would never marry him. My marriage might be political, but I still hoped I could at least stand my future husband. Philip? I'd have smothered him in his sleep.

"Your Highness seems very determined," Chapuys finally remarked.

"I am. I must be, Excellency, for how else am I to survive? I am but a frail and feeble woman, but I have warrior's blood. My grandmother was a fighter, and so, too, is my mother. Yet, I cannot win if I am besieged on all sides. I need someone to stand beside me, to support me… and my claim."

It wasn't entirely untrue. Of course I was making Chapuys believe I cared about the crown, but it was a necessary lie that he would surely believe.

"If you so wish, I will not object. I shall write to certain friends. A discreet survey shall be undertaken. I promise you, Princess, that I will spare no expense to ensure your throne and happiness. It is God's will."

"Thank you, Excellency. I knew you were the truest friend I had."

And with that, I believed I had made my move and everything would go as planned. But I was playing chess. If you're playing, never forget your enemy's moves. In court, someone is always plotting. In my case, I noticed the strange glances courtiers gave me some time in January 1534. I don't remember what set me off, but suddenly, I found myself lurking behind a corner, eavesdropping on two domestics.

"… unbelievable! How could she do it to us, to England? She's the King's daughter after all!"

"She's more Spanish than English. Have you seen her around the Spanish ambassador?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't think it strange. The Emperor is her cousin, is he not? But to think that she would plot with him to overthrow the King and marry foreign princes… I cannot believe it."

"You better had, I heard it from Robert myself, and he knows a man in the service of that Chapuys. He's receiving letters about the Princess's marriage. I'm telling you."

They seemed to be walking up to me, so I turned around and ran. I hurried as fast as my skirts would allow, adrenaline pulsing through my veins like hot fire. How could I have been discovered? And why would they think I was plotting against my own father? Neither I nor Chapuys would ever say anything of the sort; he was far too clever for it and I cared nothing for the crown. Panicking, I ran towards my friend Mary's chambers, hoping to be soothed by her wise words and sweet demeanor. Instead, I happened upon her brother George, and something awkward happened.

My Tudor temper took over.

"You!" I yelled at him, storming towards the door which he had just closed. "How dare you treat me like that, you and that mischievous father of yours?"

George looked at me puzzled. "And a good day to you, Your Highness. Forgive me, but I do not understand…?"

"Oh, don't play coy with me! Do you take me for a stupid little girl who knows nothing of the world? Do you think I'm so easily outwitted? This whole matter reeks of your father's coldblooded scheming. Tell me, what is his scheme? Is he trying to make the King disinherit me so that Elizabeth can be Princess of Wales? Of course he would love to see his own blood on the throne."

He tried hard to remain calm. "Princess, I truly do not know what you are speaking of."

I should have stopped there and then. I even wanted to. But my tongue didn't obey.

"Those hideous rumors circulating at court. People are saying that I am planning to overthrow the King and marry a foreign prince in order to do so. Do you have no conscience at all? Do you understand what could happen to me if His Majesty gave these rumors credence?"

"I do," he interrupted me. "And I am sorry, but I can assure you I had nothing to do with it. Certainly, it is just idle servants' gossip."

"Oh, and who would gain the most if I was disavowed? Would it not be that cold-hearted father of yours? Yes, yes he would. But you can tell him that he is mistaken if he thinks me easy prey. I am not just a nuisance, an obstacle on his path to power! I am a daughter of warriors. I am a Tudor! We win our crowns on battlefields and we do not give up what is rightfully ours! Tell me, what did your father achieve, that upstart knight? What did he achieve that he didn't need his daughters to spread their legs for?"

My heart seemed ready to explode in my chest. My head must have been crimson. George, too, seemed irritated and angry, but he fought hard not to yell back. My last words, however, must have struck a nerve. His eyes widened in shock, and so did mine.

"Forgive me, I should not have spoken ill of your sisters, they have never caused me any harm," I said meekly.

"Yes, you shouldn't have," George returned coldly. "But you are not entirely wrong about my father. He is an ambitious man. Sometimes, his ambitions carry him too far. I will tell him that you are no enemy to us and that you are not to be crossed."

Oh fucking God, I thought as I realized just how unladylike I had behaved. Had I blown my cover? Had I made a dangerous enemy?

"Lord George, please forgive my impertinence, I didn't mean to be rude, only I was so distraught at hearing these rumors and I…"

He waved my words away. "Please, there is no need for explanation. I understand your concerns and will tell my father that if he is behind these rumors, he needs to stop. There should be no unrest in the royal family."

"I… well, um, thank you."

George bowed before me and turned to go, but stopped once he was standing beside me.

"You really are mistaken if you consider me your enemy. My sisters and I are not our father. I would kindly ask you not to forget that," he said. I wanted to say something, something stupid probably, but he didn't let me. "Mary speaks very highly of you, and I know that you have never given Anne any reason to be unkind. That is no easy feat, I have to admit. For this reason, I shall forget about our conversation. Please rest assured that I am the King's loyal servant, and as such, also yours."

I stared at him dumbfounded as he left. What had I done? And what did he mean? Was his apology sincere? Or would he work against me with that icy father of his? Was I even right in assuming they were behind the plot? Could it affect my relationship with Mary and Anne? And, above all, how could this have happened?

Well… I guess even modern minds can lose their temper if they feel threatened, which I did. I have been here long enough to be involved; there is no going back now. It has become a matter of life and death for me. There is no rational distance anymore, this has become my life. It's no longer theory, it's real.

God, what have I gotten myself into?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – In which my parents both surprised me**

I didn't wait for Henry to hear the rumors about me. There was no way he would believe anything I had to say about it, even if he loved me as much as he claimed. This was about his pride, something he would not allow anyone to jeopardize, not even me. Instead of holding out for one of his tantrums, I decided to inform Chapuys about my predicament.

My clash with the Boleyns, however, I did not mention. Part of me still hoped that George had been sincere and would convince his father to stop these machinations. If that came to pass, perhaps Henry would never hear about it, and I would no longer be in danger. Of course, if I let Chapuys in on my hopes, he would try to dissuade me and tell me that no Boleyn was ever to be trusted. I was confident that I knew better.

To flee from my father's possible wrath, Chapuys and I concocted a plan to get me away from London. The easiest way was to pretend that I wanted to visit with my dear mother, which fortunately everyone believed. So I left the city to travel the country and meet Catherine, whom I must admit I had missed.

"Mi hija, mi cielo," she greeted me in the same warm voice she had always used. But this time, things were different. She wore a habit.

"Mother," I replied smiling. "Or should I call you 'sister'?"

It was a cheeky joke, one that real Mary would never have pulled, but oddly enough, Catherine smiled.

"I did not bring you up to be brash, young lady," she scolded me, still smiling. "Sit with me, my sweet. Tell me, how are you? Is the King treating you well, as he should?"

"Yes, mother, you need not worry. Everyone at court treats me with respect and the utmost kindness," I lied convincingly.

Catherine nodded, visibly satisfied. "As well they should. I have written to me nephew, the Emperor, to remind him of his duties to you. He will champion your course now that 'the Queen' has had but a daughter. Surely, the Emperor will agree that this is a clear sign of God's will that you shall succeed as queen."

"Mother you…" I sighed. "Have you spoken with Senor Chapuys?"

"We have exchanged letters. And you must know how proud I am of your bravery, to come and ask him for aid in finding a husband. I told him my expectations are high and that he is not to disappoint me. I only wish for your safety and happiness, my sweet. And His Excellency has assured me there are plenty of suitable candidates."

I was forced to frown. Chapuys, so far, had not told me any name. Had I not told him to come to me? Did he still consider me a clueless child?

"What names?"

"Prince Luis of Portugal, for example. I know you did not wish for foreign kings to court you, and I understand why, but you might be mistaken in rejecting Infante Luis. He is his brother's heir for now, but King John has two young sons now, and once it will be clear that one of them survives his first years, he will be named heir. Then, Luis will be free to come and be your consort."

My frown grew deeper. This was not the Catherine I had met before, sulking and gloomy and weeping for a lost love. She was shrewd and clear-minded. Was that the woman who had led an army to win at Flodden Field?

"Then we must find a means to invite Infante Luis to England," I finally found myself saying.

Catherine smiled and took my hand into hers. "Wonderful. I knew you would be wise. Allying yourself with Portugal and Spain is your best hope in fighting the Boleyn Queen and her heretic supporters. You must always remember the true faith in your heart."

I nodded. Why did I nod? I wanted to tell her that I had actually considered marrying Philip of Bavaria, a Lutheran, as means of showing tolerance and religious peace. But instead, I found myself being the obedient daughter living up to her mother's expectations.

"Then I will write a letter to Henry. He must see how important it is that you be married. You ought to be married now, with sweet children of your own. Leave it to my care to convince him."

God, no, I thought. If she wrote about Luis coming to England now, it might just add fuel to the flames. "Mother, can it wait for a few months?"

"Do you think it feasible? In less than a year, you will be nineteen. There is no better time for a princess to be married."

"I know, only I fear that His Majesty might not understand the sincerity of your request at the moment. There are certain rumors at court that he might give credence if he misunderstood our wish."

Before she could reply, another nun interrupted us. "Sister, Your Highness… His Majesty the King is here."

Both of us looked at her as if she had shot lightning bolts at us. I didn't want to, but my legs began to tremble.

"Tell him to wait, I will be there shortly," Catherine replied sternly, but the nun shook her head.

"No, he has not sent for you. He urged me to bring him the Princess Mary, immediately."

Catherine must have seen the fear in my eyes, for she put herself between me and the nun and declared that if I were to go, so would she, for she was still my mother and thus the keeper of my safety. The nun did not know what to reply, so she silently accepted. We left my mother's cell for the priory's dining hall, where apparently the King was waiting for me. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind. Had I gone too far? Had he come to arrest me? And then, why would he come himself? Did he want to see me cry and beg and crawl before him in front of my mother?

As we entered the hall, the room was resonant with voices. Henry had brought half his royal household, it seemed, including Brandon and George Boleyn. Anne, however, I could not see anywhere, as he seemed to have brought mostly men. Trembling, I strode behind Catherine to curtsy before the King.

"Your Majesty requested to see our daughter," Catherine addressed him in a serious tone.

Henry was visibly surprised by seeing her and the fact that she seemed to be so at ease with the situation. If he had thought that her entering a nunnery would make her less proud or determined to fight for me, he had clearly been mistaken.

"Madam, forgive the intrusion into these holy halls, but I must take the Princess with me," Henry managed to respond. With that, he wanted to approach me, but Catherine would not step aside. Everyone in the room had suddenly become quiet and was watching us now. I could see confusion and unease in Brandon's eyes.

Catherine looked her ex-husband dead in the eye. "Where to, if I may ask?"

"It is none of your concern, sister," he replied in a muffled voice, clearly trying not to make too much of a fuzz of this situation.

My mother would have none of it. What could he still do to her now that he had taken everything away? Her impasse seemed to give her strength.

"Our daughter has come to visit me. If you mean to spirit her away without even so much as a goodbye, I demand an explanation."

"Catherine," Henry said quietly, but already angry. "Do not make a scene."

"I am not, you are," she retorted earnestly.

I am fairly certain Henry would have exploded two seconds later, had not his good friend Brandon decided to interrupt and save the day. He stepped forward and put his oar into the conversation.

"Madam, His Majesty is truly sorry that we had to come unannounced. Matters precipitated us into coming that we could not foresee," he said, all the while trying to calm Henry down by looking at him. "We ask the Princess to join us on our travels to York. Her presence there could prove important for the outcome of our negotiations, which is why His Majesty is adamant on bringing her with us."

"Negotiations? With whom?" I blurted out.

"The Scots," my father replied, almost spitting it out. "Now, if you will step aside, Catherine, I need to take my daughter with me."

My mother and I looked at each other, both baffled, but then I nodded quietly. This was not what I had expected, but I was sure it was not the tantrum I had dreaded. I embraced Catherine once more and silently followed my father.

They had a horse prepared for me. Apparently, they had also packed dresses and brought some of my maids along, as Brandon was quick to inform me.

"Why me? Why not the queen?" I asked him.

But he shook his head. "My Princess, you must ask the King."

And so I did when the opportunity arose the day after. We were riding north, my father surrounded by courtiers and guards on horses. Custom dictated that I was to ride some pace behind him and his closest entourage, but since I could no longer suffer my curiosity, I decided to screw with custom. I gave my horse the spurs and closed the gap to the King. His men looked at me stupefied, but when I firmly told the King I requested an audience with him, he indulged me and sent them away.

"That was not very polite," he scolded me once they were gone.

"I know," I replied without lowering my gaze. "And I apologize for it, Your Majesty. Still, I must know why you would take such a detour only to take me to York. Why me?"

He laughed quietly. It wasn't exactly what I had expected.

"You are young and inexperienced, of course you cannot understand. It is the weakness of your sex and I do not blame you for it. But try to behave like a lady, child. A lady does not give into her whims and curiosities."

He probably meant well, and I could have expected a much harsher response, but his words still rendered me irate. How sexist was that?

"I am not stupid," I muttered under my breath, trying to remain calm.

"No, you are not," Henry retorted. Shit, he had heard me! "But you are an ingénue and that is why you must come with me to York. The Dowager Queen of Scotland…" He stopped.

I nodded. "Your sister."

"Yes, my sister Margaret. Though she has not been my sister in a long time. She is a difficult and fickle woman. Do you know how often I have heard her claim that she was working towards perpetual peace between our countries, and yet still have her wicked husband attack England once I went to war with France?"

"But the attack was abated, thanks to my mother," I dared to remind him.

He looked at me in what seemed to be an angry mood at first, but then he nodded.

"Yes. And I expect no less of you. You have your mother's spirit, but you are still sweet and innocent, something that Margaret has never been. She's a dissatisfied old hag, still angry at our father for sending her to that frozen wasteland the Scots call their home. If we are to negotiate, I am sure she will try to get as much as she can from us and give nothing back. She'd be willing to do everything for her own gain, even betray her own brother. Let us see if she can go so far if she has to endanger the future of her sweet niece."

I was surprised, honestly and utterly surprised. I had always taken Henry for a man who was learned, but no great thinker, a man easily swayed by emotions and whims, not a strategist. But this… this was clever.

"So you… wish me to appear perfectly sweet?" I asked coyly.

Henry smiled at me. "But, my pearl, you are perfectly sweet. And you will show your aunt what a true Tudor princess is supposed to be like. Who knows, we might even convince her that you should marry her dreadful son and do what she failed to do, bind the Scots to us once and for all."

I gasped in surprise once more, but then quickly recovered my wits. Henry seemed to be in a good mood, why not make use of it?

"You would have me marry a man you consider dreadful and send me to a frozen wasteland?"

He laughed. By God, it sounded so wonderful when he laughed. Many of the courtiers were already looking at us.

"No, no, of course not," he managed to say after his laughed had ebbed away. "But we will make Margaret believe so if it suits us. Her half-bred son certainly is not good enough for any daughter of mine, and I'm not yet willing to let you go in any case. So you had better tell your friend, the ambassador, to decelerate his quest to find you a husband."

My heart began to beat faster again. So he had heard the rumors after all?

"You knew?"

"I am the King of England, of course I know," he said firmly. "George Boleyn informed me that he was worried for you since the ambassador might be overstepping boundaries. Surely, the old man only means well, but well for whom? Be wary of him, Mary, for he is the Emperor's servant, not yours, however much he may claim to be. And he does not get to choose your husband. I do."

I did not know what to say. That wasn't what I had expected, not in the least. How could Henry appear to be so… human? Grown up? Fatherly? Did I have far too dark a picture of him, had he only become a heartless tyrant in later years?

"Yes, I will be careful. Thank you for the cautionary tale. Your Majesty is very kind."

"It is 'Father', Mary," Henry insisted and looked straight at me. "I am your King, but I am also your father. Never again forget it. If you wish for anything, a new dress, a horse, or a husband, you come to me. Not Chapuys, not your uncle Charles, not your mother. Me."

I gulped and nodded. The way he spoke was so commanding, I had no choice but to obey.

"Good," he said smiling as if nothing had happened. "Then off to York. Let us see what that careworn aunt of yours has to say for herself."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – In which I met a man**

Before we met with Henry's sister Margaret, I tried hard to recall what I knew about her. She was his older sister, I seemed to remember, the one who had been sent to Scotland as a means of making peace. She had probably been none too happy to be sent away at a young age (Fourteen? Fifteen?) and most likely, she had also not been pleased by the early death of her husband. A death that my mother had caused when her armies had defeated him at Flodden Field. God, how would she look at me, daughter of the woman who had cast her into an uncertain life as a royal widow?

Well, she looked at me with weird kindness. They had prepared a huge meal for the royal sibling meeting at York, and when we arrived in the hall, Margaret and her Scottish entourage were already sitting there. If Henry had not confidently stridden towards her, I would have barely noticed her. She was not tall or imposing as he was. By any means, she seemed like a woman aged beyond her years, sad and beaten by life. I almost felt sorry for her just by looking at her.

"My daughter Mary," Henry called me from my thoughts by introducing me.

I curtsied deeply and smiled as sweetly as seemed appropriate.

"Of course," Margaret replied. "The one you named for your other sister. I remember how tiny she was after her birth. Gladly, the years seem to have treated her well. Come, child, give your aunt a kiss."

Wow, I thought as I obeyed her command. Such hostility in the way she said 'other sister', but it wasn't directed towards me. What had happened between her and Henry to make her so bitter? I couldn't imagine ever speaking about Elizabeth or her children like that.

"Let us dine," Henry then said, not waiting for anyone to add their opinion.

Unsurprisingly, the meal was an uneasy one. Henry spoke with Brandon, who sat to his right, and sometimes leaned over to me to inquire whether I liked my food. He had me seated between himself and Margaret, who seemed equally unwilling to begin a conversation, and so I had to be content with my spoon and ale most of the time. Great, was that what I was here for? To act as a buffer between two stubborn siblings?

Not on my watch.

"You said you remember me as a babe, Aunt Margaret," I said loud and clear once the opportunity arose. Both Henry and Margaret stopped eating and looked at me. "Sadly though, I cannot remember any of it. I must have been too young."

"Indeed you were," Margaret replied, cleaning her mouth and shooting my father a dark glance. "I was residing in England at the time, surely your father has told you. He had me lodged in Scotland Yard, where Scottish kings reside when they visit London. We were discussing peace terms between our countries… much as we ought to do now, again. You see, sweet child, history always repeats itself. And here we are again."

"Here we are again," Henry repeated half-ironically, half-angrily. "Why don't you tell the whole story, dear sister? Tell my daughter how you failed to assure that the peace terms were kept. How you fell out with that second husband of yours, the one you were so eager to marry after the King died. The one who was working in England's interests, not the French's, like that traitor Albany you took to your bed instead. Do you not think she ought to hear all the truth?"

Loudly, Margaret drove her knife into the piece of meat on her plate.

"How can you say that when you know it was all lies? I never fornicated with Albany! And Angus betrayed me; he loved me not and showed it day by day. You should have stood by me in those days, as my brother!"

"I am the King of England, not your brother," Henry returned harshly. "You ought to have worked in England's interests, but instead you ruined it all because you could not keep your legs together after your husband died."

God, how quickly the situation had escalated! People were already starting to listen to the conversation and stare at us. "Father, I don't think that…"

Sadly, neither seemed impressed by my attempt at making peace. "Oh, and what about you and that new wife of yours? You certainly wasted no day too much waiting after you had finally rid yourself of your first wife."

"Watch your tongue, woman!" By now, he roared like the angry lion he was, and my hopes of keeping the situation low were vanquished. "This is Mary's mother you're speaking about!"

Whoa! Was he defending Catherine, he, of all people? Silence, all around me. Trembling, I looked at my father and aunt.

"I apologize to you, Princess Mary. I had not meant to speak ill of your mother, who has always treated me with kindness and respect," Margaret then said all of a sudden.

Henry nodded, still angrily, but obviously satisfied, and sat down again. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, as if I sat on a bomb waiting for someone to defuse it. By any means, I had to prevent the anger from resurfacing, at least here, in public. Quietly, I leaned over to my father.

"Your Majesty, I know it is unbecoming for me to advise you, but please… I think you need to speak with the Lady Margaret alone."

He snorted. "Alone? You've seen for yourself what a snappish old frump she is. Why on Earth would I want to be alone with her?"

"Because… because… well, she is your sister. I know that if Elizabeth ever gave me cause to be angry with her, I would not want all of court to hear our argument."

"Elizabeth would never give you any cause, not like Margaret does," Henry snapped back, pointing towards Margaret.

I smiled. "No, she wouldn't, she is a darling. But she has you for her father, when Aunt Margaret had King Henry. You told me yourself that he was no easy man to grow up with."

"Hum, did I?" For a second, he seemed to wonder about my brazen lie, but apparently, my appeal to his secret despise of his father had worked. "You may be right. I shall speak to her on the morrow, alone. Please, tell her that."

"Why me?"

There were several answers I was expecting. 'Because it'll sound sweeter coming from you', 'because I don't want to speak with her tonight anymore', 'because you look so innocent that she can't say no', or any of the like. Henry didn't oblige me, though.

"Because I command you to."

That was it. His tone wasn't unfriendly, but he had put an end to the discussion. Apparently, he had not patience left for tonight.

"His Majesty wishes me to inform you that he would like a private conversation, tomorrow," I then did his bidding by telling Margaret.

"Oh, does he, now?" She returned shrewishly, but then, after a moment, sweetened her tone. "Forgive this scene, child. It has naught to do with you and I feel responsible that you were forced to witness it. I'll make up for it, I promise. Tomorrow, when I converse with your father, I'll send you Earl Duncan for your pastime and disport. He's a fine lutenist and a charming young man."

I thanked her, I guess, though I don't really remember. My mind was already wandering. Why would she offer to send me an earl? Was there some plot behind it, for him to seduce me perhaps and thus embarrass my father? Or was she just trying to be kind and I was the paranoid one? For far too long, it seems, I must have pondered about this offer, for I found myself leaving the hall after dinner still thinking about what to do. Finally, I decided there was only one proper way for me to handle it, and that was to defer to my father's wishes. So I informed him about his sister's words and waited for what he had to say.

Once again, he surprised me.

"You'll accept," he commanded me. "Tell her you are grateful for her considerate offer and that you will gladly spend time with that Earl."

"What?"

He smiled and winked. "Your uncle George spoke to the Earl tonight, by chance. Apparently, he's King James' closest personal friend, sent here to be the King's eyes and ears. This is an opportunity we cannot miss. Find out what you can from him."

Now it dawned upon me that I had seriously underestimated my father. He was far more than the pawn of his councilors or a jealous, wife-murdering tyrant. No, he had a mind of his own, and if necessary, he could use it quite effectively. And now, he was practically asking me to play the innocent sweetling before some Scottish nobleman in order to elicit King James's secrets from him. For a second, I wanted to tell him just how cool his actions made him seem to my eyes, but fortunately I remember he would have never understood the word, let alone why I could comprehend his plans. He actually thought me not much more than a dumb sweet girl, and for the time being, I would leave him to think that.

"Of course, Father, if it be your command, then I am happy to obey," I said instead, and that is what I did the day after: I met with Earl Duncan.

In a crowd of people, I would not have noticed him, at least not very quickly. There was nothing special about his stature or complexion, no particularly hideous or beautiful features. But there was something likeable about him, something that made me feel at ease very quickly. While I allowed my father and aunt their much needed fight, I found myself spending almost the entire day with Lord Duncan. And what can I say? Aunt Margaret had been right; he was pleasant company and a fine music player.

We roamed the gardens, had lunch together, and after that, he played some songs for me and my ladies. It was all chaste and innocent, of course, for I would never allow my ladies to remove themselves more than a few meters. Whatever we said, they had to hear it, too, else I would soon face nasty rumors about my wantonness. And that, I couldn't have. I wasn't here for my pleasure, but to do my father's bidding. So, after a few hours, I decided that he trusted me enough to let me in on his secrets.

"My Lord, I heard it said that you were a good friend of King James's. I wonder if it was just idle gossip or…?"

His smile interrupted me. There was something definitely charming about it, dangerously charming even. "Ah, and why would you wonder that, Your Highness? Are you curious about the King?"

"No, I…" God, I blushed! Was that real Mary reacting in my stead, was I just a superb actress, or was I slowly becoming the blushing princess myself? "I just thought that there is far too little I know about him. He is my cousin, after all, and yet I have never even met him."

"Oh, I understand. Forgive me; I mistakenly assumed you were interested in the King because of a possible marriage contract between you."

"What?"

Duncan chuckled. "Surely you knew it was a possibility. Or am I mistaken once more? Are you wed already? I heard something about a French dauphin once, I think."

"Dauphin Francis, yes, but nothing came of it," I reminded him. "I know of no negotiations between myself and King James and I would not advise you to speak of such matters. People love to misunderstand things they heard."

"Yes, a misunderstanding it must have been then," Duncan agreed, but the smirk in his face told me he wasn't willing to let the matter pass. "Ask me, then. What is there that you wish to know about my Lord and King?"

"What is he like?"

Really? That was what I asked? I wanted to scold and beat myself for my stupidity. I sounded like a four-year-old!

Duncan pretended to ponder the matter long and hard. "What is he like… Well, he is twenty-two years of age, about my height, though perhaps a bit taller, and certainly more good-looking."

The way he said it made me laugh. "Oh, of course you would say so about your King."

"Of course, wouldn't want to wake his Stuart harshness so he cuts my head off," Duncan agreed, laughing as well. "Still, it is the truth. The King is a favorite at court."

"With… women?"

"With everyone. Because he is so gallant and good natured. And he, too, is a gifted musician. We even shared a tutor for a while, did you know? And if you can keep a secret…" He waited for my reaction.

Hesitantly, I looked towards my suspicious maids, but the opportunity was just too tempting. And so I leaned over and allowed him to whisper something in my ear.

In the most serious tone, he then said: "I am the better lute player by far."

I laughed. Long and loud and absolutely earnestly. It was the first sarcastic joke I had heard since I had come here and it felt so good. My maids stared at me, but Duncan waved them off, telling them he had told me a Scottish joke.

After my laughter had ebbed away, he asked: "But I have heard that you are quite a talented player yourself, Your Highness. Is it true?" And with that, he offered me his lute.

"No, I… certainly people only exaggerated my skills in order to flatter me," I tried to brush it off, but he would have none of it.

"Do I need to beg you just for one little song? I'll do it if you want me to; I'll drop right on my knees and…" The way he said it made it sound like a humorous threat. Of course I knew what my maids would think if he dropped to his knees in front of me, and I couldn't allow for it to happen. Duncan knew that as well.

Hastily, I took the lute. "If it pleases you so… but I need to inform you that it has been years since I last practiced. You might be seriously disappointed."

"Let me be the judge of that," he returned tauntingly.

Sighing, I placed the instrument correctly and tried hard to remember those few guitar lessons I had taken when I was fourteen. I literally knew no more than a few chords and had certainly never even once held a lute. Whatever Duncan assumed he knew about my abilities actually referred to real Mary, who was thoroughly educated in music. I, on the other hand, was an eager listener, but no musician. This would probably be the most embarrassing moment of my Tudor life.

My fingers touched the strings. It felt odd, yet somehow familiar. Just a few chords, I told myself, so he believes you. You can't allow him to blow your cover, not now. What song did I know that was easy to play?

Something… anything… The Beatles.

Probably not my finest idea ever, but I had to act quickly. My fingers began as I tried to remember any of their songs. And then, something happened. Once I had the song in my mind, my fingers began on their own. It wasn't my doing, certainly not; I had never played the lute before. But Mary had. Her body knew what to do; her ears translated my memories into movements. And the weirdest thing: it actually sounded good.

When I finished, Duncan clapped his hands and even animated my maids to do so as well.

"Bravo! That was wonderful, Princess Mary, a very charming tune. I have never heard it before."

"It's an English verse," I said without actually lying. "Liverpudlian, if I remember correctly. It's called 'Here comes the sun'. I'm glad you liked it… although that was as far as my skills will carry me, I'm afraid."

"No, Your Highness, I definitely cannot believe that. You're hiding your light under a bushel, but I will push you no more. Would you like for me to play another song, then? I, too, know a tune about the sun. If it pleases you, of course."

"I'd like that very much," I said, but before I could say any more, one of my ladies came and whispered something in my ear. "Oh… Well, my Lord…"

"Duncan, please. Being addressed so formally makes me feel rather old," he insisted.

His earnest smile forced an equal reaction from me as I rose to my feet. "Lord Duncan, then. I am tremendously sorry, but my father, the King, has sent for me. Apparently, his conversation with the Dowager Queen is over. We will have to postpone your song until there comes another time."

Duncan jumped to his feet. "But Princess, what if the meeting is over for good? If Lady Margaret returns to Scotland, I must go with her, and might never see you again."

"If it is God's will, we shall meet again, and then I will gladly listen to all of your songs," I assured him, secretly hoping that it would be God's will.

"Good," he agreed half-heartedly. "May I write to you then?"

I had already turned to go, but now I stopped. Part of me felt absolutely flattered by the offer, but part of me was alarmed. What sign would that send to the world? An unmarried foreign nobleman writing me letters? I could already hear the gossip.

"I… should advise you to ask the King's permission. If my father does not object, I will gladly read whatever it is you wish to write to me."

There, that had been polite, hadn't it? Duncan seemed to agree, for he smiled – but there was something mischievous in his smile.

"And would you write back?"

"Would I…" I looked him dead in the eye. Only then did I realize (or allow myself to realize) what had happened here. We had flirted. Heavily so, even. I was in big trouble now. Yet, why did it feel so good? "Yes, I would. If it pleases His Majesty, of course."

"Of course. We must obey our Kings, must we not? I bid you a good day then, Princess."

My heart beating, I curtsied before him and left as fast as I could. What could I do now? I could hope for it all to pass by unnoticed, but that was a dim hope. Henry had already proven far smarter than I had expected. It would probably take him only hours to find out. My only choice was to play sweet and innocent Mary, his obedient daughter. So when I reached him in his chambers, I dropped into a very deep curtsy.

"Your Majesty sent for me."

"Rise, Mary. There is no need for such formalities," he said and offered me a hand. "Tell me about your day with the Earl. Did you find out about King James?"

"Some things, yes," I replied hesitantly. "But, Father… there is something you must know. The Earl might approach you asking for permission to write me letters. I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it, nor did I give him cause to assume anything. Please, you must believe me."

Henry looked at me, scrutinizing. I tried to appear shocked, which was not entirely untrue.

"I do. Of course I believe you, Mary. I know how hot-headed young men can be. But for our purpose, him painting a vivid picture of you to his king can only be good. I will allow him to write you letters, then. Continue there what you have done today, to find out about James and influence him through the Earl. I think you are doing very well."

"You… want me to write to him?" I didn't trust my ears.

"Yes, nay, I command you to! Make a friend of him if you can. Your aunt does not hold as big a sway over her son as she wants me to believe, but his closest friend certainly does. Gain their trust if you can. We cannot know when we might just need it."

"Gladly," I agreed now. "And, Father? How was your conversation?"

"We have reached a compromise. Some sort of it. Preparations for a summit will begin once we return to London. We'll meet with her son come the next summer."

"We?"

"I will want you and the Queen with me, both. We have to show strength and unity."

I smiled, relieved that he didn't want me there just for marriage negotiations with the Scots. Somehow, my thoughts of marrying James had vanished completely. Other thoughts had replaced them. Could there be any good in marrying a minor nobleman from foreign descent, I wondered. No, another voice in my head said. Just shut up, give it up, it'll never come to pass. You're not here for fancy flirting, you're here for politics. Behave like it!

As if that was so easy…


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 – In which I agreed with Mary and Anne**

Summer had come and passed. By the time we celebrated Elizabeth's first birthday (a lavish celebration, by the way, of that I made sure), I had already received my second letter from Earl Duncan. My response to his first letter had been swift and probably too subtle. I knew what was expected of me – my mission was espionage, simple and plain.

The only problem was: I did not know how to be a spy. How far could I go without giving myself away? What information did I want to gain in the first place? And how could I betray Duncan like that, a charming, decent man? The latter was probably my biggest dilemma. Each and every syllable he wrote me made me like him more. His way of penning words was suave; the way he flirted seemed almost modern. His smirk was in every drop of ink. How could I deceive someone I truly liked?

Tudor intrigues were beginning to gnaw at me, I had to face it. And to make matters worse, I was seriously afraid of falling for the Earl. There was no way we could ever be together, nor did I actually want to. I hadn't come here to fall in love but to change the world. Still, trouble was brewing.

That's when I decided that I needed to speak to someone. I needed Mary.

"It is a serious issue," Mary Boleyn agreed with me after I had unbosomed myself to her. I had neglected the part about me being from a different time, of course, but I had told her about my father's request and my growing feelings for Duncan. "It pains me to say, but the King would not be pleased if he found out."

"Certainly not. I'd consider myself lucky if he only threw something at me or yelled. I might even find myself jailed for disobedience or treason," I said sighing.

Mary violently shook her head. "Oh no, you mustn't think so. The King loves you very much and would never harm you, no matter his anger. And besides, my sister would forbid it."

I chuckled ironically. "The Queen? Why would she? There is not much love lost between us."

"And this is where you're wrong, Your Highness. I think my sister appreciates you far more than you know. Only recently she has told me what a pleasant surprise your engagement in Elizabeth's festivity preparations was. She said you outdid yourself."

"And yet, she called it a surprise. She is surprised by the fact that I love my sister," I retorted. "Forgive me, I did not mean to sound bitter. I am young and confused, that is all."

Mary laughed. It was a warm, wonderful sound, like honey.

"Young and confused? What am I to say, then? Do you think being confused is a privilege of youth?"

"Of course not," I gave back smiling. Then I noticed something – her hand instinctively moving to her stomach. That's when I realized she was in far greater trouble than me. "Mary… forgive my boldness, but I consider you a dear friend that I would not like to see in tears. Please, you must be frank with me."

Her laughter ceased and instead, she frowned. "I don't understand."

"Are you with child?" There was no response for a very long time before she faintly nodded. "Is it your husband William's?"

Mary's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

"I like to be informed about things," I replied, not telling her that I knew because I had anticipated it a long time ago. Because I was from the future. "Have you told anyone yet?"

"No, I haven't. I can't! My father will never accept William. He's a man of little standing or fortune, a serving soldier. But you must understand how hard it was for me to find a man, a good man. He loves me and I…"

"Shsh," I interrupted her. "There is no need to explain the matter to me. I understand completely and I am very happy for you. But you must break the news to the Queen, and in time, the King also. You have made William brother-in-law to the King of England, it cannot go unnoticed. You will be in serious trouble if you keep them in the dark for too long."

Mary seemed desperate by now. "Yes, I know, oh, I know it so well! But every time I tried to tell Anne, I didn't have the heart. And now that I'm pregnant and she's not… you don't know how she can be."

Believe me, I can, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth shut about it. This was not the time for witty remarks. Instead, I tried my best to console a friend by embracing Mary gently.

"I am sure she will understand if you explain it to her. She is your sister, after all. I know I might be angry with Elizabeth for a time, but I would never stop loving you. Surely, the Queen must feel the same for you."

We let go off each other, Mary smiling with relief, when suddenly a knock upon her door startled us. Only seconds later, the door was pushed open as the Queen rushed in like the whirlwind force that she was. When she noticed me, she stopped abruptly, obviously surprised.

"Princess Mary."

I curtsied. "Your Majesty."

"I had not expected to meet you here, but I consider it fortunate. I had wanted to invite you to my rooms after my darling Elizabeth's birthday, but somehow, I seem to have forgotten. Now, I insist that you come tomorrow."

"If Your Majesty wills it, then I am happy to obey," I retorted, curtsying again. "Lady Mary, it was a pleasure conversing with you. I wish you all the best. A good day to you, and to you, Majesty."

And with that, I left two sisters to discuss their problems on their own. In the meantime, I went back to my chambers in order to pen a new letter to Duncan.

 _Dear_ _To_ _To His Most Noble Lordship Duncan,_

That was as far as I had gotten until the next day. Disappointed with my own diplomatic skills, I threw the paper into the fire and instead went to obey Anne's command and attend the audience with her. To be honest, I was curious about what she wanted to see me about. Was Mary right, was her sister trying to make amends now that she knew I loved Elizabeth truly?

"Sit," Anne commanded after I had been presented to her. Not much ceremony was lost between us, either, apparently. "You may leave us, ladies. I wish to have a word in private with my stepdaughter."

She waited until all her ladies had left to the antechamber, making me feel quite uneasy. Then, after sweetly offering me a pie (which I denied) and some wine (which I gladly took), she began to speak.

"I had a conversation with my brother."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She's going to kill me, I thought. Roast me. Cut my head off.

"And I heard the most peculiar thing about your chat with him. Now, since my brother Lord Rochford is a perfect gentleman, he did not go into much detail, but I know him. I know him well. I know that he downplayed your part in this, um, discussion. Why, I cannot fathom, for if I apprehend the situation correctly, you basically yelled at him like a tavern wench."

I blushed. Crimson red, I'm afraid, but what was I to do? She made me feel like an unruly teenager.

"Allow me to be honest with you: such behavior is very uncomely in a princess, much less so in a Princess of Wales. I do not assume you would be pleased with the outcome should His Majesty hear of your lewd behavior."

"No," I managed to press out of my lips.

"But you must understand that if anything like this ever happens again, I am bound and obliged to tell my lord and husband, the King."

I lowered my gaze. "Yes, Your Majesty. I… I appreciate your concern."

Anne smiled in a way that was hard to decode and even harder to describe. There was a hint of triumph in it, but also strength, smartness, seductiveness. This certainly was her game, I could feel it.

"Good. I am glad we have come to an understanding. We are family, after all, are we not?" She said before pouring down her wine. "And oddly enough, both my brother and sister seem to consider you family as well. I wonder what you have done to gain their trust."

These last words did not seem to want for an answer. They sounded more like Anne speaking to herself, asking a rhetorical question, but something in me felt obliged to answer.

"The Lady Mary considers me a friend, as I her. As for your brother, Lord Rochford, I think highly of his talents, although my recent… encounter… with him may make it seem differently. To know they consider me family is an honor for me."

"Wonderful. Then you will be delighted to hear that this family will soon expand," she retorted, sounding a bit miffed. But then, quickly, she resumed her smile. "I am with child again. The King will not make it public until Christmas, but I think you ought to share in our joy."

She had clearly expected to see me angry, distraught, or at least frowning. I would not give her that pleasure; so instead, I smiled the brightest smile I had to offer.

"Majesty, that is wonderful news! I shall pray day and night for this child and your safe delivery."

"Of course," Anne muttered under her breath, taken off guard by my reaction.

This was my chance, I decided. Now or never.

"Your Majesty may not believe me, but I swear on my immortal soul that I speak the truth. I am tremendously happy to have another sibling. Surely you must see how much I love Elizabeth. There is no one in this world I would gladly die for, yet I would for Elizabeth." Anne made an attempt to say something, but I wouldn't be stopped. Not now. "And I do long to have a brother, much as you will distrust me in that matter. I have no desire to be Princess of Wales or to wear the crown. Why do you think my mother relented in the first place? Did the King tell you it was I who convinced her to step down? That I told both her and him of my wish never to be Queen? If it hadn't been for me, you might have had to wait for years to marry His Majesty, you would have never had Elizabeth or this child." It wasn't true, of course, but Anne didn't have to know that. "But you do, and I am glad for it. I love Elizabeth. I will love this child. And I would be pleased to know you accepted these truths."

Silence. Anne looked at me with disbelief, and after a moment, I must have returned the glance similarly puzzled. Had I really just shot all those words at her?

"I never said you didn't like Elizabeth. But since we are being frank, yes, I do suppose you like the crown more than your sister. Do you take me for a fool? You are Catherine's daughter, after all," Anne then said.

"You and she are not so different. I have come to believe that you were forced into loathing each other. And now, the same forces that put you against each other are trying to do the same to us," I replied in a very serious tone. "There are many at court who would like to see you fall, Majesty, there is no need in denying it. And perhaps, there are just as many who would like the same for me. They will try to use us for their own personal gains. They will put us against each other like pieces on a chess board and watch us fight like dogs for their own amusement. But I refuse to let that happen. I am nobody's puppet, and I think that neither are you. Because it is you and I who wield the true power in this court – we have the King's heart. Anyone else can only hope to gain power through either of us, and thus, by dividing us. But if we refuse to be divided…"

We locked gazes. It was the first time, I think, that we truly looked at each other like equals, that we truly recognized and respected the other. Slowly, Anne nodded.

"I did not return to England to be anyone's prey. I am the Queen of England," Anne agreed.

"And I am the Princess of Wales."

"I must admit, I am surprised by your words… Mary. You are your mother's daughter, but I didn't understand what it truly meant, not until now," Anne said solemnly. "I accept your terms. There shall be none above us and none to divide us, for the King's sake and for ours."

"And for Elizabeth and the baby," I agreed. "Please believe me when I say that I will pray for a boy. A bonny lad to wear the crown one day. And I promise to be the best sister he can hope for, to care for him and make sure he one day becomes the King he is meant to be."

Anne smiled genuinely, but then her face distorted. She dropped the goblet from her hand and clutched her stomach.

"Lady Saville, fetch a physician," I yelled towards the antechamber before jumping off my seat and towards Anne.

"The baby," she said in shock.

I, too, was more than alarmed, for I knew more than her. Anne had never carried a child to term after Elizabeth, though no historian was sure why. Was there no chance of abiding this dark future? Was there no way to save my little brother?

"You must lie down, Your Majesty," I urged her, but Anne shook her head.

"No, it was just a small scare, the pie perhaps. I'm feeling better already."

"To the bed," I sternly insisted. "I will not allow you to endanger my brother."

Her eyes voiced objection, but her mouth remained calm. Perhaps it was the seriousness in my tone that convinced her or the fact that I had grabbed her by the shoulders. Without waiting for her to change her mind, I pushed her into the sleeping room and yelled for the ladies to come.

Sometime later, when Dr. Butts finally arrived, I decided to retreat and grant her some privacy. We had not become friends, after all, and I was sure she wouldn't want me in the room with her. But there was someone else who demanded my presence, later that day.

The King called me to dine with him.

I didn't know what to expect, since surely he must have heard about Anne's scare this afternoon. Would he blame me for it? Had she changed her mind and told him about my falling out with George? But no, he smiled when I entered. Not falsely, as he often did before throwing a tantrum, but warmly, fatherly.

"Sweetheart, I wanted to express my gratitude for what you did today," he finally told me his heart's content whilst we ate. "Dr. Butts says my son will live and thrive, but that the Queen needed rest more than anything. And her ladies told me you were with her when it happened, and that you would not desist until she lay down."

I nodded. "Yes, Father. I know it was unruly behavior towards the Queen, but I was so worried for my brother."

Henry took my hand in his. "No, do not apologize, Mary. You were right in doing so. I know that Anne can be stubborn – at times, I love that trait of hers fiercely, but it can be detrimental to her health and that of our boy. I thank God you were there to guide her. And I must insist that you stay with her during the pregnancy and when the time has come."

"Majesty, I am unsure of whether the Queen would like my presence."

"She will like it once she cradles our son," the King said firmly. "Mary, you might just be the only one the Queen listens to."

"What about her sister?"

"Mary? She is a lovely woman, but she doesn't have your courage our fierceness. You are my daughter, a Tudor princess, your will is strong. And you have more reason than anyone else to wish for a happy outcome of this pregnancy, except the Queen and I, of course. I can trust no one but you to make sure the Queen is safely delivered of a healthy son."

And what if it's another daughter, my mind asked, but quickly pushed back the thought. You did not act the wise guy with a king.

"Then I shall ask the Queen's permission to visit more frequently. And I would also like to speak with her midwives and doctors regularly, if you give me license to do so."

Henry frowned, clearly thinking something like "what do you know about midwifery, my virgin daughter?", but he too knew better than to say so. Instead, he nodded and smiled.

"Anything you need, sweetheart. I am so happy to have your eager support and obedience."

"Nothing would make me happier than for the Queen to give birth safely, and to a healthy child. I swear to you, Father, that I will do all I can to ensure it."

Henry dug his teeth into a chicken leg and smiled. "Fine. Splendid. So, then tell me, how is your relationship with that Scottish Earl progressing?"

Shit, I thought. Back into trouble again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 – In which I got myself another Mary and another Anne**

I knew I would have to make a decision when I read another of Earl Duncan's letters.

 _To Her Most Sweet_ (the word was crossed out and replaced with) _Serene Highness, the Princess Mary,_

 _Assuming that my words shall be with you around Christmastide, I need to begin by wishing you a very happy Christmas. I have always been curious about the holiday season in other courts and would be delighted to hear from you how the English celebrate. I am in Holyrood at the moment, preparing myself for the season. As for the kindest greetings you wished me to convey to His Majesty, I can assure you he has received them warmly. My Lord King was pleased to hear about your cordiality and many talents, since he, too, considers you family. I may have also hinted at the fact that you could be more to him, since he still lacks a bride and queen to sit beside him, but there is no definitive answer I could convey to you. Apparently, his councilors are planning to cement the Auld Alliance by negotiating a marriage to a French Princess, Madeleine_ (the name was crossed out, barely readable, but I managed) _, the name of whom I have forgotten. James has heard many good things about her and liked her image very much, but I think he would also like yours. Your Highness must know that God has graced you with pure beauty, a beauty that any man would be happy to call his bride. In time, I might ask your noble father, the King, for a portrait so I can convey it to my King, yet still, there is no need to rush. By Christmas, my master will…_

I stopped reading. He was telling me secrets that no Englishman should know, secrets that any spy would kill for. So the Scottish and French were actually negotiating. My father would be furious to hear it, wanting to react as soon as possible. But could I tell him? Duncan trusted me beyond doubt – what kind of person would it make me to betray his trust?

But after hours of reading and re-reading his letter, I finally came to a decision. Betraying the Earl's trust would make me a less than honorable person, an immoral liar. But I had not come here to be sweet, innocent Mary. I wasn't Saint Thomas More washing his hands of it. If anything, I needed to be a second Wolsey, a pigeon shitting on anything. What was good for England and the royal family was good for me. There was no space for being sentimental. No, on the contrary, I realized that I had been too soft and subtle ever since I arrived. I had tried my best to befriend important people or at least not alienate them, but that wouldn't be enough in the long run. The only problem I had solved was the dissolution of my parents' marriage, but what about the other problems to come?

Anne's miscarriages?

My mother's early death?

My father's jousting accident?

Jane Seymour snatching his heart?

Anne's beheading?

The Pilgrimage of Grace?

My head was swirling. Only the day before, I had stumbled into Jane Seymour, now lady-in-waiting to the Queen. She had been there all along, of course, but that situation had reminded me of how neglectful I had been. All the time I had spent basking in my father's love, playing with Elizabeth, and footling with Earl Duncan, I had not been able to prevent any of these events. Time was running up, the year 1535 was near, and with it, many of the darkest deeds of Henry's reign.

I looked into the mirror straightening my shoulders and made a promise. This was what I had come here for. I had come to save England and many innocents from a fate too bitter to endure. If that meant spying on a good man like the Earl, so be it. But it would mean so much more. I could no longer allow things to progress unchecked, I needed spies for myself. Not just Chapuys with his clouded, Spain-centric view on everything. Not just the people at court who clearly liked me, but me, the sweet Catholic angelic princess, not me, the ruthless schemer. Someone would have to go down this path, or else people like Cromwell and Edward Seymour would, with very obvious outcomes.

"No," I said. "If there's a God, I'm sure you're listening. I'll not allow men like them to ruin England once more. I'll pay the price. I'm willing to sacrifice whatever friendship or love there is between me and the Earl, I am willing to sacrifice my innocence. And I ask only this: that you give me a chance. A chance to set things right, to save the innocent and punish the wicked."

How pathetic, a voice in my head whispered, and somehow, it was. Back in my time, I would have never said anything like this. But then again, this was how I spoke now, and the things I spoke about were far more important than anything I had ever decided in my real life. This was a matter of lives and deaths, something I could not lightly decide while having a coffee at Starbucks.

So I put away the Earl's letter and went to inform the King about the Scottish royal marriage. Then, after enduring his angry tantrum and receiving the renewed order to converse with Duncan, I turned to go. There was more I had to do. Much more.

I needed spies and I figured that Christmas was a fortunate occasion to find some. But not just anyone – I needed people important enough to hear about important things. Not just ordinary washerwomen or wives of minor courtiers, but ladies of higher standing. And ladies, they must be, of course, for I was still living in a time when conversations between men and women were looked at with a frown. Even someone like my uncle by marriage, George Boleyn, was too dangerous an ally, for I could never speak to him in private without raising suspicion. If there were people at court willing to accuse him of incest with his own sister, then they also would accuse him of seducing his niece.

Women were what I needed, and that put me in a difficult situation. Not too many of them were educated enough to understand what I needed from them. Many were like Jane Seymour, barely able to write their names and short notes. They were no use to me; I needed someone with a mind of their own. And I would need more than one, to share the risks. Given the fact that England was heading into an age of religious discord, it would probably be best to have women from both sides, Catholic and Reformist.

That's how I chose Mary and Anne.

"Lady Mary," I greeted her cordially on the second day of Christmas.

She dropped into a stupefied curtsy, blushing like the young maiden she was. "Yo-your Highness, I… it is an honor!"

I smiled gently. "Rise, Lady Fitzroy, there is no need for such formalities. In fact, I have come to apologize to you."

"To me? Whatever for?"

"That I have neglected you for so long. You married the Duke last year, and yet I have not invited you to sow with me. I feel terrible for it, considering that you and I are now family. I know it must be only a small comfort to you if I say my sister's birth and court politics kept me away, but please believe me that I do regret my negligence."

Mary Fitzroy, nee Howard, looked at me in awe. Just as I had expected, she was a shy girl of about fifteen and absolutely lost at court. Clearly, she had not anticipated my approaching her, much less expected it. She was wife to my illegitimate brother Henry Fitzroy, after all, a child my mother had always wanted shut away to the countryside. Surely she assumed I hated him and her with equal passion. So, with enough kindness, I mused, I should be able to win her over easily.

"Yo-your Highness has no reason to apologize, for I understand completely."

I sighed (exaggerated, maybe) and took her hand in mine.

"Oh, but it is. I feel terrible knowing that you have been thrown into the waves of court mercilessly, when it should have been me to introduce and guide you. I know how terrifying court life can be – not so long ago, I felt just as overwhelmed and intimidated as you must be do now."

"Yes, it is quite… I am never sure of what do to and how to carry myself. I feel everyone is staring at me," Mary opened up to me. "But I would have never assumed that you felt the same. You carry yourself with such dignity and grace."

"As you will, when the time has come. Do not fret, you have done no wrong yet, and I will help you make sure it does not come to pass, ever. That is, if you wish me to."

Mary smiled honestly. "There is nothing I would like better! Truly, Your Highness has no idea how much your offer means to me. And my husband will be so delighted to hear about your kindness, I swear it. He is convinced you were cross with him for… for what his mother did… but I know that in his heart, he has always wanted your friendship."

"And he has it, you can assure him of it," I returned the smile, holding her hand a little closer as if to confirm my sincerity. "I know things have been amiss between our parents, but we shall do better and let bygones be bygones. Within time, I think, you and I could be the best of friends. Sisters, maybe?"

"Nothing would make me happier," Mary agreed. "I really cannot thank you enough."

"And you do not have to. There is only one thing I need from you: a promise. Lady Mary, you must promise to come to me during Christmastide, so I may introduce you to important people and perhaps teach you a thing or two. And when you leave court again, you must write to me."

She nodded eagerly. "Every day."

"And you must tell me everything you hear, especially around court."

"Oh, that," she waved my words away. "I do not listen to court gossip."

"But you should. There is nothing more important than what people think. The dangers of court are not visible to the open eye – they are dark words whispered in secret. Please, you must promise to tell me everything, unimportant as it may seem to you. Especially if someone speaks about the royal family, of which – by extension – you are now also part. We are family now and as such, we must protect each other. I can only protect you if you tell me all you hear."

She was a child still, as I had assumed, and the gravity of my words impressed her. Clearly, she had chosen to see me as a kind of role model, an idol she wanted to impress, and willingly agreed to my proposal. Yes, I know, my handling of her was less than honorable. I had made her my unwitting spy, which was quite objectionable, but I did so for a reason. And, in my defense, I had no intention of harming her. No, indeed I had been truthful when I told her that I wanted to protect her. If she eavesdropped for me, I was more than willing to support her by any means possible. I was no heartless mafia boss or any of the sorts, after all.

Later that same day, after celebrating my first success with a nice cup of wine, I joined the festivities in the main hall. There were masques and banquets and dances planned for almost every day of Christmastide – a sign of my father's happiness, given that he had announced Anne's pregnancy to court on the first day of celebrations. Everyone seemed to cheerfully anticipate the birth of a prince – even if they didn't.

One of those was a young woman standing beside a window, a cup of ale in her hand and a gloomy expression on her face. Well, I don't know for sure how she felt about the prospect of a prince, but she surely didn't look happy. My time to shine, I thought. My chance.

"Lady Anne," I greeted her in the same cordial tone as I had Mary Fitzroy.

She frowned, but still dropped into a curtsy. "Your Highness."

"Are you enjoying the feast?"

"Certainly, Your Highness. His Majesty is very generous." She sounded wary and uneasy, as if she didn't know why I had come to her, of all people. Right now, she was a woman of little importance, but I knew she was ambitious and thought much higher of herself. And I knew how high she could, in time, rise.

"You must be very merry indeed, seeing that your wedding is to come in January. I heard about your engagement to Ser Edward and wanted to convey my best wishes to you," I then said, smiling innocently. "I will include you in my prayers."

"Your Highness is far too kind," Anne Stanhope replied a little sarcastically, thinking I would not notice.

"Considering the unfortunate end of your husband's previous marriage, I can only pray that you will find more bliss in your own marriage."

"Oh, I am sure I will," Anne retorted somewhat angrily. "I am grateful for your consideration and shall return it once you yourself get married. Once His Majesty allows it, of course."

Hah, I thought. Hah! She was just as daring and witty as I had hoped she would be. To talk back to a princess like that, she had to have guts.

"Yes, my father the King can be very possessive," I replied sweetly. "But I am sure I will one day be as happy as you. Anything else would be a shame, given that we have so much in common."

Anne laughed soundlessly. "And what would that be?"

Lowering my voice, I turned to her and said: "We both like to hide our intelligence, as smart women often do, though I am better at it than you. Do not take that as an insult, Lady Anne, for in truth, it is a compliment. There are few women at court with your wits, and even less who know what to use them for. I know an ambitious woman when I see her."

"Do you, now?"

"I do," I said nodding. "And I also know that the family you're marrying into will not satisfy your desires. The Seymours are an old and noble family, yes, but they do not think highly of their women. Sir John uses his daughters as pawns, and your husband-to-be, Sir Edward, is no better. He will only see you as a means to an end."

Anne raised an eyebrow. "And now you would tell me that you won't?"

"I see that we understand each other, of which I'm glad, since it means I can be honest with you. Yes, Lady Anne, I would not use you as a pawn. I see a woman of bravery and cunning, a woman who knows how to choose her friends wisely."

"Are you offering friendship, then, Your Highness?"

I nodded. "That and much more. I understand that you want to rise, Lady Anne, and rightly so. A woman of your talents is wasted on a man like Sir Edward. What could he possibly give you that I can't? I am the Princess of Wales, second most important woman in all the land. The only better friends to have are Their Majesties, and you would never succeed in catching the King's eye or gaining the Queen's trust. But you can have me as an ally, and believe me when I say you should truly consider my offer. Whatever riches and honors you dream of – if it is within my powers, I will make sure you receive them in time."

"A very generous offer indeed, Your Highness, and one I am tempted to accept. You are right about my fiancée, and I hope you're not disappointed if I told you that I knew it before. The Seymours mean nothing to me," Anne Stanhope agreed in a dark voice. "But what would you want from me in return? I am not interested in buying a pig in a poke."

"Justly so. Surely, you understand that no one can be powerful without friends. That is what I need you to be. I need friends who understand the way court works, and who are loyal to me. I need friends who will support me in all that I do."

Anne frowned again. "Your Highness… if you collected intelligence about me, did you by any chance happen to find anything about my religious beliefs?"

"I know that we differ on religion, Lady Anne, and I like it that way. No one will suspect our connection then," I tried to assure her.

Suddenly, she smiled again, somewhat mischievously. "I truly must admit that I have misjudged you."

"As does everyone else and I would have it that way. You will find that being underestimated is one of the best armors to wear at court. So, if you might consider my offer, we will not be seen conversing in public, though of course, I will make sure you gain a position at court. Still, there is one thing I must ask, and I beg you to answer truthfully. Is there anything in this world you are unwilling to sacrifice, anyone you are unwilling to betray?"

It seemed to me that Anne wanted to answer straight away, but stopped herself from doing so. Instead, she pondered my words for a moment, gazing through the room filled with merry courtiers.

"No," she finally said. "Not unless I had children. I assume I would not betray them if ever I had any."

"Good," I returned smiling. "This is a satisfying answer, for one day, I might ask you to betray someone close to you. But not today, and never your children, I promise. If you swear loyalty to me, Lady Anne, I promise your children will never want for anything. They will end up in history books, not in the streets."

"What a lovely prospect," Anne agreed. "But tell me, what happens when someone asks me to betray you?"

I nodded slowly, pausing to think of all the perils to come. Asking Anne was a gamble, for she could just as well become a dangerous enemy.

"That day will come; I have no illusions about it. And I do not assume that by that time, you will have found me so connected to your hear that betraying me seems just as painful as betraying your own children," I told her. "Yet still, I ask this of you: if ever you are tempted to betray me, give me chance to sway you. Whatever they offer you, I'll give you more. I have no intentions to simple use you, Lady Anne, else I would not have offered friendship. What I want is this: that you and I both succeed at surviving the dangerous of court life by working together."

There came another lengthy pause during which both of us appeared to drink and smile at the dancing crowd. Then, after pondering the matter thoroughly, Anne put down her cup.

"Thank you for the offer, Your Highness. I am flattered you chose me above all others, but I think it was a wise choice. I gladly accept."

"I'm pleased to hear it. Then expect to be called to court after your marriage. Perhaps I'll need to find something for your husband as a pretext… well, nothing for you to worry about. When you receive the summons, you'll know that I was truthful and that the agreement stands."

Already turning to go, Anne curtsied before me and smiled. "I don't need to wait for the summons to know that. I have heard enough to value your character, my Princess, and would not take you for a liar," she said. Then she passed me by, and while doing so, inconspicuously whispered: "You now have as much to lose as I if our friendship doesn't last."

I watched her go and join the dancing, looking at her smiling face with mixed feelings. This was a gamble with high stakes, I had known before, but one that I simply had to risk. There was no one at court with her wits and ambition, and no one I so desperately had to make my friend if I wanted to save myself, Queen Anne, and so many others. Anne Stanhope would have her way, of that I was sure – now all I could do was try to make sure she had it on my terms.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 – In which I ended one quarrel and began another**

It seems to be one of history's most ironic facts that a man so obsessed with his virility and begetting heirs as Henry VIII would only be granted one child per wife or mistress. I had read a thing or two about it, looking into possible explanations that modern scholars gave for this peculiarity. Henry clearly wasn't infertile, but perhaps he suffered from syphilis that he passed on to his wives? Or perhaps it had to do with blood and rhesus factors? I couldn't recall everything about that theory, but it stated that after one successful birth, the woman's body produced antibodies against future children. I didn't give that theory much credence – how, then, could I be here? Mary hadn't been her parents' first child, not at all.

No, I have my own theory, now that I'm stuck right in the middle of events. Watching Anne's pregnancy with a fearful eye, I have come to the conclusion that it must have been psychological reasons. She was a strong woman, but the pressure of having a son was wearing her down. And the way she was 'cared for' just added to that. At times, when I had to stand by and let those quacks practice their medieval charlatanry, I wanted to scream at them: IDIOTS!

They knew little to nothing about simple hygienic routines. And then to think that people actually believed the woman had any influence on a baby's sex. How ridiculous! As if a pot decided which plant it was growing! But I had to keep my mouth shut if I didn't want to anger the King or find myself burned at the stake. All I could do was try to implement as much of my general medical knowledge as I could when no one was watching. I made sure Anne enjoyed a healthy diet and got enough exercise and fresh air, even though I had to disguise it as "joining me for a walk". As long as my sibling survived, I didn't care how many lies I had to tell.

By January, the weather had disintegrated into a snowy, muddy mess, and I could no longer ask Anne to join me in the gardens. She was already too heavy, anyway, so we just sat together in her apartments. Mostly, the activities deemed fit for us were a boring chore (like stitching), but Anne would sometimes send her ladies to the parlor and speak with me in private. Then, we spoke about politics and her life in the Netherlands and all of those interesting things her ladies would never understand. That's when I actually began to like her.

"I take it you received another of that Scottish Earl's letters yesterday?" She casually asked me one day. "Oh, don't look surprised, I have many eyes and ears. And you need not worry; I will spread no gossip about it. His Majesty has told me about your… mission. Quite exciting, I must say, but also dangerous. It could damage your reputation and marriage prospects."

"I am doing my very best to be careful and act the proper way," I assured her.

Anne nodded. "Of course you do. But once I have given the King a son, I will tell him to stop. We will find you a husband then, a good and proper one. It is time you had a chance at your own family, Princess, and I will not have politics stand in your way." She sighed at looked away from me, gazing at the dancing flames in the fireplace. "I should have cared for it long ago, as any stepmother ought to. 'If only she'll accept me as queen', I said… See, when I married your father, I told myself I'd be kind and loving if only you accepted me and the legitimacy of my children… but you did and I failed. I mistrusted you even when you showed great kindness to Elizabeth, even when my own sister praised your virtues. Perhaps I thought it was all trickery… and I saw evil where there was none."

Stupefied by her honesty, I looked at the Queen for a long moment before smiling.

"Perhaps you've simply been at the French court for too long," I suggested.

Anne giggled a little and nodded. "Yes, that must be it. But, be it as it may, I still wish to make up for it. I promise to intercede with the King on your behalf and make sure you find happiness in your marriage. Seeing you with Elizabeth, I know you'll be a good mother."

"Thank you, Majesty," I replied dutifully. "But I do not wish for marriage so soon. It would take me away from court, from my family. I wish to see my sister grow up."

"Hm-hm," Anne mumbled. "Thank you for telling me. Only yesterday, I encouraged the King to continue negotiations for your hand with a certain Prince of Portugal, Luis, I think. I thought I was acting in your best interest."

I almost dropped the needle I held. "What? Oh, um, thank you for your consideration. It is a great honor to think that a Prince could be interested in me… and I do not wish to appear ungrateful…"

"But you want to stay here," Anne finished for me. "Do not worry, I will make sure your father doesn't see it as anything else but your undying loyalty towards him and England. If you want to stay, we shall make it so."

Both of us smiled, she kindly, I relieved. I had actually begun to feel at ease around her now that we had found a common ground, and her reaction now proved to me that I was right in trusting her.

"Mary, they say you are such a prodigy with music," Anne suddenly interrupted my thoughts. She smiled like a vixen. "Please, play me a tune. Your little brother has decided to mistreat his mother with violent kicks. Something soothing, please."

I protested, trying to tell her I was no good, but the Queen wouldn't believe me. Perhaps I shouldn't have practiced in my rooms so much, of course someone would hear. Resigning with a sigh, I rose to get a lute and returned to a smiling Queen. Soothing, she had ordered, soothing she would get. By now, it truly felt like I knew what I was doing, so I played her one of the songs I had practiced on my own – Hallelujah (the one from Shrek, didn't know who originally wrote it).

Some of Anne's ladies drew closer as I played, curious as to what was happening, and in her magnanimity, Anne allowed them to stay. After I had played a verse or two, the Queen tried to gain my attention.

"Are there no words to it?" She asked.

There was no reasoning with her, so I began to sing.

"I heard there was a secret chord, that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this: the forth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah – Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Your faith was strong, but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you. Well, she tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah – Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah…"

I sang as much as I remembered of the words, and perhaps I remembered some of them wrong, but it didn't seem to matter. Once I had ended, the room fell eerily silent. Only then did I notice that everyone was looking at me, some with tears in their eyes. Anne, too, seemed deeply touched.

"That was so beautiful…," one of her ladies gasped.

The Queen looked at her sternly, but then nodded. "Beautiful indeed. Ladies, let us thank Her Highness for this wonderful song. It was a sweet pastime, but now you need back to your duties," she commanded. After they had left, she looked at me. "Your brother seems pacified now, thank you. It eases me greatly. Now, tell me, what is going on outside these rooms? What will you do after you have left this hen house?"

Putting away the lute, I straightened my back and considered my words carefully. "I… I have an appointment with Master Cromwell this afternoon," I then told her truthfully. Politics might upset her, I knew, but not knowing anything would also upset a woman like Anne.

"Oh," she said. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, as you might now, the King has recently appointed Cromwell Royal Vice-regent. I hear he is planning a census of all the religious houses in England to determine their tax value."

Anne laughed. "What do you know about taxes, child," she asked cheerfully, but immediately stopped smiling when she saw my stern face.

"Not much, I am afraid, but I do know about religion. I understand that Master Cromwell is a man of progressive views, but many in England are not. I fear the outcome should his interests clash with those of the ordinary Englishman. I fear for the peace and stability of this country."

The Queen nodded, now looking much more serious herself. "You are right. I am glad I am not the only one who thinks thus. Cromwell is a good and diligent servant, but I am afraid he might overreach himself."

"Exactly," I agreed eagerly. "Which is why I need to speak to him. Warn him. Make him see that destruction and abolishment are not always preferable to gentle transformation. A truncheon cannot be the solution."

"You are right." Anne grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes. "And may our Lord grant you a silver tongue. It is us women who need to constrain the keen minds of men from time to time. God knows I would do it myself, but I have to focus on the wellbeing of your brother. Still, I am glad to know that you will act in my stead. It takes a great burden off of me."

"That is all I strive to do," I assured her with a smile. "I live to serve and please."

Anne returned my smile. "And you succeed at it. Then go, quickly, to your appointment. Your brother seems to be asleep and I have more than enough hens to look after me. You go and look after England, and return to me once you have spoken to Cromwell. I am curious to hear what he says."

"Even if his answer upsets you?"

"Even then. I am not a stupid broodmare, Princess, even if the physicians want to treat me as such. When I carried Elizabeth, I still discussed politics with your father. Now, he's too afraid to upset me for fear of losing his son, but you are not, and I thank you for it. So go and do what you must."

I rose and curtsied before her. "I will do just that, Majesty."

And so I did, leaving the royal apartments and preparing myself for a confrontation I had anticipated and dreaded for quite some time now. Given the fact that Cromwell would have a lasting impact on the religious quarrels to come, I couldn't neglect to interfere. And besides, despite his later opposition to Anne and his (presumable) part in her downfall, I had always kind of liked him. He was a competent servant, and those were quite rare to find. If there was any way to guide him away from his path to self-destruction, I had to try.

"Your Highness," he greeted me bowing. "I am honored you would like to speak with me. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Master Cromwell… or is it Lord Cromwell already?"

He smiled charmingly. "Oh, anything but, Your Highness. His Majesty has merely appointed me vice-regent in religious matters. It is an administrative measure."

"Vice-regent Cromwell, then," I said matter-of-factly, not willing to buy his understatement. I knew he was ambitious and I would not allow him to cloud the issue. "I have come to speak about the upcoming census and the investigation of the monasteries."

Cromwell frowned at me. He was clearly taken aback, taking his time to clear his throat before replying.

"Madam, I am not sure I understand… what is it you wish to speak about? This is a political issue unfit for the delicate female mind."

It was the demur I had expected. From his point of view (or the Tudor point of view in general), my interest in the matter was unconventional, if not outright immodest. I was a woman, after all, feeble and sweet-natured and unfit to meddle in the affairs of men. But just like the Queen, I refused to accept that position. I had not come here to be silent and bend to this time's misogyny.

"Master Cromwell, certainly you will find that it is a religious matter, also, and that as such, I have as much right as anyone to inquire into the matter. I am the Princess of Wales, after all."

"Until Her Majesty births a son," Cromwell agreed snappishly. He seemed to regret his words instantly, but I wouldn't allow him an apology.

"Yes, until that fortunate day, for which I pray every night, I am heir to the crown. And as such, I demand to speak to England's vice-regent. Rest assured, Master Cromwell, that I have no intention of meddling in your affairs. I merely came to warn you."

He raised an eyebrow, appearing somewhat miffed. "Warn me?"

"Indeed," I replied nodding. "Looking into the monasteries and abbeys might tempt you to consider them all lewd and corrupt so they may be dissolved and their wealth transferred to the exchequer. And while I can guarantee you that His Majesty will be overjoyed by such unexpected riches, I must also warn you that they come at a price."

"Princess Mary, these are matters of which you know too little and which should not burden your mind. I don't consider it appropriate…"

"No, Master Cromwell, what is inappropriate is stealing from God to fill your own pockets," I interrupted him rather sharply. I was weary of his treatment of me, even if, by the custom of the time, he was right to do so. "And the people will not stand for it. Every monastery you close, every holiday you ban will earn you a hundred enemies. You and the King both. Tell me, when the people come calling for your head, do you think His Majesty will protect you?"

There was a brief moment of silence between us, one in which I think he actually considered my words.

"Make no mistake in assuming the King's love is forever. As long as gold flows into his coffers, he will shower you with his gratitude, but the balance can swing every so swiftly. I would hate for England to lose such a diligent servant as you simply because you fell prey to greed. Take my words into consideration, if you will, or I fear the snows might one day thaw and wash you away."

Until now, he had attentively listened, but now his face darkened. "Am I to consider this a threat, Princess?"

"Oh, this is no threat, certainly not," I assured him laughing, and then added sternly: "The snow always thaws."

A day later, when my father the King sent for me, I expected to be scolded for my impudence. I could not know whether Cromwell would listen to me at all, or whether he would straight away denounce me, or perhaps even spin a secret web of schemes. But I held my head high as I walked into the royal apartments. If I had any reason to fear Cromwell, I would soon know.

"Mary," my father said happily, and I decided it could not be about my quarrels. "Come, sit with me. There is a matter we must discuss."

"A matter, Majesty?," I asked coyly as I sat down.

"Yes. I wanted to inform you that negotiations have been made with the royal palace of Portugal. I've had the possibility of a marriage between you and a Portuguese prince investigated," he began. "But I also want you to know that I mean to put no further effort into the matter. The Queen and I have both agreed that you can do better than Portugal, sweetheart."

I smiled, trying to appear meek when indeed I knew just who had given him this idea.

"And besides, I'm not willing to let you go just yet. Anne is convinced you are her lucky charm for this pregnancy, and I'm inclined to believe it. I need you here, Mary, at least until my son is born. We can look into marriage proposals afterwards, if that is what you wish."

"Your Majesty is very kind, but there is no need to rush. Once my brother is here, my heart shall be more than satisfied for quite some time."

He laughed. "You speak the truth, sweet girl. I can't wait to hold him. Edward, is that what we agreed on?"

"Indeed," I said nodding. "Edward and Elizabeth, that's what we said."

"Well then, let us look forward to the completion of your wish," my father replied and winked.

Isn't it rather your wish, I thought, but said nothing. Instead I smiled.

"Yes, father. I am convinced Her Majesty will carry to term and give you a healthy child. What more can we ask for?"

"What more indeed… well, a good old war would be quite pleasing, if the Scots could indulge us," he blurted out, but when he saw my shocked face, he burst into laughter. "Oh come now, child, it was but a jest! Don't worry; I have no intention of gambling away your inheritance. No, if I am to fight in a war again, it must be worth it."

I nodded, eager to please him by encouraging his thirst for glory. "And when you do, Father, you shall be triumphant."

"What do you know about that, hm? My little warrior princess?" His words didn't sound angry or unfriendly, just disbelieving. And why wouldn't they? He couldn't know who I was in truth.

But I did. And in time, I would show him just what I could do.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14 – In which my heart both laughed and wept**

Some time around my birthday, I finally found out why Anne had historically miscarried after Elizabeth. It wasn't just stress or anxiety, I now knew. In real life, she had already lost the child around the time when I first saved her, but since I had intervened, her pregnancy progressed to show the real reason for the disaster. It wasn't the child's fault – rather the children's. Anne was carrying two of them in her womb.

Twins. I should have been overjoyed, as the King rightfully was, but rather than cheering, I found dark gloomy clouds gathering over my head. Twins were a blessing, but one that came at a cost. Even in my time, they often didn't make it out the womb alive. I shuddered to think of my friend Emma, a young and healthy woman whose twin girls had been lost. A minor infection had forced Emma into premature birth, resulting in two babes who barely lived a few hours. Despite the best prenatal care, despite having antibiotics at their disposal, the children had been lost.

Queen Anne could not hope for such advanced medical help. How was she to succeed? I tried hard to recall successful twin births from history. There had to be some, otherwise there wouldn't have been twin figures in Greek mythology, for example. But I couldn't remember anyone who had twins during the Middle Ages. And I, for one, didn't exactly know how to deal with the situation either.

After the initial joy, worries soon followed for my father as well. I was with him when, by the end of February, the doctors informed him that the birth could be expected any time now. The Queen certainly wouldn't carry to term.

"But that is normal, Your Majesty, and is to be expected. There is no need to be upset, for Her Majesty has the very best of care," Dr. Linacre told us.

"Yes, indeed, we expect matters to go smoothly," Dr. Butts agreed with him.

The King looked at the two of them frowning, then looked at me standing behind his seat. When he saw my skeptical face, he turned back to the physicians.

"Is my wife's life in danger?"

"Well, Your Majesty, there is always a certain chance that things might go awry, but Her Majesty has shown no signs of illness or any other incapability, so we see no reason to worry."

Well, what do you call her first almost-miscarriage, then, I wanted to ask, but bit my tongue.

"And what if there comes a time to worry? I want every precaution taken to ensure my sons are born healthy. And to protect my Queen."

"Of course, Majesty. We are doing everything we can."

I could see in my father's eyes that he was not entirely convinced, just like me. Deep down, he seemed to sense that Anne was in danger, and I knew for a fact that she was. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to give him comfort, and he grabbed it ever so tightly.

"Well then, I leave the happiness of my family in your care. Do not forget about it," the King said. "And if there is ever a moment of doubt, I demand you defer to my daughter, the Princess Mary's wishes. In the birthing chamber, she will be with Her Majesty all the time. Should the need to make any decisions arise, you will act by Her Highness' will."

All of us stared at the King in surprise, even me. I surely hadn't expected this.

"But… Majesty, she is no expert on the matter. Surely, you would rather entrust your wife's security to men, men who know their business," Dr. Butts gasped.

The King shook his head. "My daughter might be no medical expert, but she is a woman, and that is what it takes here."

Linacre smiled and nodded. "Yes, a female opinion is always valuable in childbirth… if she were a midwife or a mother herself. Forgive us, Majesty, we mean no disrespect, but Her Highness is a maiden without knowledge of these matters. Naturally."

"Of course she is a maiden," Henry returned, clearly beginning to lose his patience. "But she is also my daughter. She has more cause than all of you to save my boys and the Queen. If anything is amiss, you WILL ask her opinion and act according to her choice. I hereby command you to."

The men all looked at him puzzled for a moment before nodding and bowing. They left quietly, without further ado or discussion.

Trembling, I dared to speak after they were gone. "Father, you… you're giving me too much credit."

He looked up at me and smiled faintly. "No. You are mistaken, as are these quacks. They seem to think their cures and ailments will ensure a safe birth, but they know nothing. Whether or not your siblings and stepmother will survive is entirely up to God, and he cannot be impressed with needles and Latin phrases. Only love brings us close to God, my child, and I know you love your brothers as you love Elizabeth. I can trust only you to keep them safe."

I couldn't speak after hearing this. In truth, I was overwhelmed by his display of trust, which I would have never had anticipated when I had first found myself in Mary's shoes. I had truly gained a position of utter loyalty and trust with the King, and for that, I could have laughed giddily. But he also placed an enormous responsibility on me. If things went wrong, I might have to decide between Anne's life and that of my siblings, without even knowing what their chances were or what to do in order to improve them.

"You… you are too kind," I finally managed to stutter in response, seeing that he was looking at me eagerly.

"It's not kindness, Mary, and you know it. I need you. I couldn't…" The King stopped.

He didn't continue, but I had a fairly good idea of what he would have said. He was man enough to know that choosing between his beloved wife and the possibility of a male heir was too much for him. He wouldn't be able to come to a decision. It would break him apart, so he deferred it to me. He would have me carry his cross.

"I'll do all I can to ensure God smiles upon or family. You will not regret putting your trust in me, Father," I promised even though I knew I might not be able to keep it. But he was my father, what was I to say? That my historical and medical knowledge led me to the conclusion it was unlikely the birth would be smooth? That one, or maybe more, of the three might not make it out alive?

He squeezed my hand heart. "Good, very good. I am proud of you, sweet child, and I want you to know it. When the Queen has delivered, we shall see into the matter of your marriage. I'll make sure you're happy."

"I'm happy when I'm with you," I replied. Cheesy, I know, but that's how I felt that second, and Henry clearly liked the answer.

"But you will have to leave nevertheless. Your stepmother has more need of you than I, as do your brothers," he commanded me to leave with a smile.

Four days later, on a rainy day in early March, Anne went into labor.

It was a terrible mess. Three or four physicians (I really cannot remember, there were too many faces) ran around shouting for hot water, or blankets, or other irrelevant nonsense. Two midwifes sat by the bed and told Anne to push. And then, there were her ladies. God knows I never hated them before as much as I did then. They ran around like headless chickens, squeaking and making a fuss without being truly helpful. Only Mary Boleyn seemed to remain calm, and I was certainly grateful for it.

"Keep breathing, sister," Mary told the Queen. "Don't worry about anything, you'll be fine. The children will be fine. You've got all you need. Just accept the pain, it'll be worth it."

"Ahhh," Anne returned angrily. "Why did I ever get pregnant agaiaaaah…"

She grabbed my hand and pushed hard. It hurt as she dug her nails into my flesh, but I kept my mouth shut. If that's what she needed, at least I could be of some use.

"They're killing me, Mary," Anne whimpered to her sister before looking at me. "Your brothers are killing me."

"No, they're not. It just… feels like it. Remember, with Elizabeth it was also painful, wasn't it? But what a beautiful little sister she is now," I tried to reassure her.

Sweating heavily, Anne pushed her head back into the pillows and cried out once more.

"Don't worry, it's always like that," Mary Boleyn now reassured me. "She'll be fine."

"It doesn't seem like it," I replied under my breath and rose.

"No! No! Don't go away," Anne yelled at me.

I shook my head. "I'll be right back, I swear. I will make sure you get the best of care," I promised.

Quickly, I hurried to find Dr. Linacre. He was talking to a colleague in a hurried tone.

"Dr. Linacre, are we doing everything we can?," I asked haughtily.

"We are, Your Highness, I can assure you. It is not unusual for a birth to take long, as you will know once you are a mother yourself."

His tone made me angry. "You're not here to lecture me on childbirth; you are to save the Queen. What exactly are you doing standing here?"

"We are discussing possibilities," he said rather miffed.

"What possibilities? Remember the King's orders. You are to inform me about everything."

Linacre hesitated for a moment. He wasn't a bad man, I know, and he had just as much to lose as I if the birth didn't go well.

"I fear for your delicate heart, Your Highness, but since you insist… there is a chance that we might need to cut Her Majesty open. The midwives say there is a strong chance one babe might be entangled in… well, the umbilical cord. If that were the case, they would strangle themselves while being born."

I swallowed hard. "But… if you did that, it would kill the Queen."

"Most likely, yes."

"And there is no chance she would survive it? If we made sure the knives were sterile and everything?"

The two physicians looked at me frowning. "The knives are what," one of them asked.

"Never mind," I hissed, now remembering what time I lived in. "If it comes to that, make sure to notify me first. I'll need to take some precautions."

They still frowned, but I left it at that, my head swirling with ideas. Perhaps if I had them boil all the instruments first, Anne might not be infected. They were able to sew wounds, so that wouldn't be the problem. Most likely, her womb would be severely damaged, rendering her barren, but if she and the babies survived, wouldn't that be worth it?

"Maaary," I heard the Queen's voice echo through the room.

"I'm here," I said hastily and dropped beside her bed. "I'm here, I'm back. I won't leave again. They are doing everything they can. You'll be fine."

"I feel so dizzy," Anne gasped. "This is not right. It's not like with Elizabeth, not at all. Ahhhh."

I looked at my namesake on the other side of the bed in worry. Now, too, Mary seemed to be anxious. That wasn't a very good sign.

"I can see a head," one of the midwives interrupted.

"See, you're doing well," Mary Boleyn said, trying to smile. "Just a few more pushes and you'll have the babe in your arms."

"But it's just the first, it's just…. Ahhhh...," Anne tried to object.

"You mustn't think that way," I told her. "Think of Elizabeth. Of the King. Of your love for them. Do it for them. Keep holding on and push."

"I hate him," Anne spat between two pushes. Her hair was now a sweaty mess. "I hate him for putting me through this."

I nodded. "I know. But you also love him. It is always like that with him."

For a second, Anne laughed. "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

Then she yelled again, and again, and once more before sighing exhaustedly.

"There it is," the midwife announced, taking a small bundle away from the bed.

Anne tossed her head around. "What is it? Is it all right?"

I wasn't sure whether I had heard a cry or not, but I patted her head and smiled. "Everything is all right. You'll be fine. The baby is fine. Just continue."

"I can't do it anymore," she whispered and pulled me closer. "I know that God is calling me to Him now. I'll die today."

"No, don't speak like that."

"When I die, promise to tell the King that I love him. Promise to be good to my children," Anne said with the devil in her eyes. I had never seen her so determined before. "Promise me."

"Majesty, it won't come to that…"

"Ahhh," she yelled again as the second baby tried to come into the world. "For God's sake, promise me!"

I looked at her, then at the midwife's worried frown, and back at the Queen. Something was going wrong, I could feel it in my guts.

"I promise, Anne. I promise all of it. But you won't die."

"Ahhhh…"

She began to weep tears, not of fear or sadness, but sheer exhaustion. I would never have children, I swore to myself that moment. Without decent painkilling medication, this was madness. A madness that dragged on for hours.

I don't know how long it took, or what nonsensical reassurances I whispered into Anne's ear, but some time, finally, the midwife took another bundle from us, and Anne sank into the sheets like a house of cards falling apart. There was no rest for me, however.

"Your Highness, you must come quickly," one of the ladies told me several times before I reacted.

I rose mechanically. "Stay with the Queen," I ordered Mary Boleyn, who nodded in response. Then I allowed the lady to drag me into an adjacent room, in which Dr. Butts and one of the midwives were worked up about one of the babies. Its skin was pale blue, making it look so fragile that it shocked me to the core.

"The younger one." The midwife looked at me apologizing. "It's the umbilical cord…"

"No," I whispered, stumbling towards the stock-still baby body. "No. Breathe, come on, breathe."

I tried to remember my first aid course. Reanimation, come on, come on! Use a thumb for babies, they're too small, then breathe into the mouth. Some distant part of my brain told me that my actions would stupefy the doctor and the midwife, but I didn't care at all. They could burn me at the stake all they wanted after I had saved my sibling.

"Come on…"

"My Princess, what are you..:" It was Dr. Butts' voice, but I ignored him, pushing even more vigorously.

"Breathe!"

"Your Highness, there is nothing you can do," the midwife then said, trying to pull me away.

"No… no, let me go!" I was yelling now, and when she wouldn't give up, I angrily turned around and slapped her in the face before returning to the reanimation. "This is not going to happen! Breathe!"

"Princess Mary, for the love of God, please," someone said now. I think it was Dr. Linacre, but I had no idea where he had come from. "He is with God. Come back to your senses."

I felt arms pulling me away, strong arms. Too strong for me to fight against them, even though I tried. I fought like a wildcat. By now, I realized I had begun to cry, and through a veil of tears I could see my lifeless sibling disappearing from my sight as I was being dragged away. Finally, I managed to break free, only to break down on the floor and sob.

Hours later, I was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace of the Queen's antechamber. All around me, people were rushing around, but they were just a muffled notion to me. Everything seemed dull and hollow, just like my heart. All I could see, all I could think of was the pale face of my baby brother. I had failed him. Utterly.

"Mary."

It was a voice calling my name, a voice breaking through the cloud of despair surrounding me. It was the only voice capable of doing so – my father's.

"Mary. Darling."

Now I realized he was kneeling in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, and a worried look on his face.

"Majesty," I whispered.

"Thank God," he replied and kissed me on the forehead. "You were worrying us all."

"I failed you," I spoke under my breath. "I'm a failure. It's all my fault."

His hands ran over my hair, softly but firmly. Then he took me in his arms, and my dam broke once more. A flood of tears washed over me.

"Oh, don't cry, my sweetheart, don't cry," Henry said soothing. "It was naught to do with you, sweetling. You did everything. It was God's will."

I sobbed. How could he be understanding when I had failed him so?

"But I promised!"

"And you kept your promise. As did Anne, thank our Lord. I'm not mad with either of you, sweetling. God in his mercy has spared one babe and the Queen. She is weak, but the doctors are certain she will make it. So will your brother."

His words forced me to see him in the eyes, even though I must have looked a total mess by now.

"I have a brother?"

Ever since I had lost my fight, I had not bothered to speak to anyone. I had not asked about the other child or my stepmother, as if I had been in a cocoon of sorrow.

"Yes," the King confirmed smiling. "God has been kind to give me Edward, even though he has called your other brother away. We'll make no official announcement of it."

"But you must," I immediately insisted. "He was my brother, he deserves a proper burial. He is no dirty secret."

"Alright, of course. We'll have a ceremony for him, but then you must name him, as well."

I blinked. "Why me?"

"Anne is still unconscious… and you already chose Edward. I… please do it for me."

I nodded, suddenly feeling no longer so useless. I immediately pondered all the possible names and ruled them out just as quickly. Henry, William, Charles, Owen, Jasper… What if Anne had other sons, would I spoil good names for her? In real life, Henry had never had other sons, but what would he have called them? And wasn't it wrong to think of it as waste – the dead boy was my brother, after all, just as precious as Edward. He could have meant the world to me, just like Elizabeth or my real life brother. Remembering him made my heart twitch. That's when I decided to name the brother I would never have for the one I had in my other life. In some way, by being here I had lost him, too, so it kind of felt appropriate.

"Michael," I said. "For surely, my brother is with God's angel now, guided by his wings to the doors of heaven."

Henry smiled at me. "I'll inform Cromwell about it. And I command you to rest now. There is much to happen in the days to come, I need you strong. Can you be strong for me?"

I nodded faintly. Today I know he was doing motivational talks with me, fairly cheap psychological tricks, actually, but at the time it was exactly what I needed. I was at the end of my tether and he sensed it.

Two days later, I had recovered enough to show the strength he expected of me when I had to act as chief mourner for my little brother Michael. It was a solemn affair, and for me, it was mostly a struggle against tears. I knew I would blame myself for his death until my dying day, even if I knew for a fact that there had not been much to do about it.

What you know and what you feel are not always the same.

Fortunately, there was also some joy in my heart, for another three days later I was allowed to hold my other brother for the christening. After begrudging my greatest failure, I was now allowed to celebrate my greatest victory. If there was a God, he really had a strange sense of humor.

"In the name of God, the Father, God, the Son, and God, the Holy Ghost, I now baptize thee Edward Tudor, son of King Henry VIII and Queen Anne. Amen."

Amen, I whispered as I made a vow. This boy, who had never lived in history, would prosper under my care. I would find out what a son of Henry and Anne was capable of. I'd turn him into a great king myself if I had to. Whatever the cost.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15 – In which shock turned to anger**

I am, in general, a skeptical person. I tend not to believe anything at first glance, even when most people would. Sometimes, it plays out well for me, sometimes it doesn't. This, however, is not about a time when I was too hesitant for my own good. This is about the time I should have been more doubtful and less trusting. This is about my (perhaps) biggest mistake.

It began in early April. I'll spare you the litanies of how I should have known before (yes, I really should have) and how I overreacted when I found out (probably, though I would still debate about it). Instead, I'll restrict myself to telling you what had transpired and how it affected the outcome of history. Then, all of you can reach your own judgment.

For some weeks after Anne's exhausting delivery, I had been caught between joy and sadness, but within time, seeing my living little brother won me over. Edward was just as sweet as Elizabeth had been, so naturally I (much like his mother) tried to spend as much time with him before he left for Hatfield as possible. Fortunately for both Anne and I, the King had decided to delay his leaving and instead even call Elizabeth to court for political reasons.

My aunt, Dowager Queen Margaret, was coming to England. Henry had invited her under the pretext of some obscure spring festival and 'preparations for the summit', but that wasn't the true reason she was bound to come. My father wanted to show off. He finally had a son, apparently strong and healthy, and a happy family. It was politically clever to show off his stable situation, as it put him in a stronger position opposite King James, but it was also something personal. I did not quite understand it, but there was still a sour atmosphere between him and his sister. For some reason, Henry wanted to rub his happiness in her face.

"She has arrived this morning," my father informed me casually. "We are to dine together tomorrow, and the day after, I'll introduce her to Edward and Elizabeth."

I smiled dutifully. "I am certain she will adore them both."

"She better had," my father replied with a jest. "After all, what is there not to like? I bet her boy has never caused her so much happiness as Edward does me."

"Certainly not," I agreed rather absent-mindedly. You do not oppose the King, at least not in this, even if I actually thought he was being somewhat unfair. "Are you to speak about the meeting with King James?"

"In word and deed, yes. I have not officially welcomed Margaret yet, but we have spoken briefly, and I think she is eager for the meeting to be a success. She has brought many letters from important nobles with her, and even one penned by the King himself. See," Henry said pointing to an elaborate piece of parchment. "In it, he expresses his wish for perpetual peace and friendship with England. Can you believe it?"

My eyes skimmed through the handwritten lines before stopping at the signature. It was enormous indeed.

"It is hard to believe. It is the Scots we are speaking of, after all," I then said.

"Ha!" My father's laughter bellowed through the room. "Spoken like the English girl you are. Yes, we must be wary of the Scots, especially if their words come honey-coated. They possess no refined manners, so every sweetness they display must come from their long-term allies."

"The French," I concluded. "Do you think they are trying to trick us?"

The King took back the letter and began to fumble around the seal while pondering my question. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"We cannot be sure, but I assume as much. Still, that is nothing for you to worry about, my sweet," he said and then smiled. "Margaret also had a letter for you, I forgot to mention. It seems a certain Earl of Ballengeich could not be deterred from giving her a few lines to bring to you."

I instantly returned my father's smile, a bit too happy, perhaps, but honest none the less. Giddily I took the letter from him. My happiness did not go unnoticed, however.

"Mary," he said in a grave tone. "You have a gentle heart. Do not be fooled by your own game."

My smile slowly died down. Instead, I nodded. "Of course, Father. I shan't forget the purpose of my conversation with the Earl."

"That is what I wished to hear. Now leave, I have important business to prepare before meeting with your aunt."

I curtsied and withdrew slowly, but once I had left the room, my steps began to accelerate. It had been more than a month since Duncan's last letter, and I was anxious to read it. Today, I think that I had actually fallen for him somewhat, but it is hard to say in hindsight. Making assumptions about what I did or did not think and feel is dreary business, so I'll leave it at that.

Instead, I'll tell you about the second my heart broke. It did not happen straight away when I opened Duncan's letter and began to read. His first few lines were as charming and lovely as ever, making me feel flattered like the stupid little girl I was. But something was odd. I couldn't put a finger on it first, but a nagging voice in the back of my head began warning me. Then, when I had almost finished his letter, my heart began to race like a deer fleeing from its predator.

It couldn't be.

The voice in my head became louder, but I tried to push it away and continued to read.

It mustn't be.

As my eyes flew over the last lines, I had actually realized it, but still didn't want to admit it to myself. Then I looked at his charming good-bye words and his signature, and I had lost.

Realization hit me in the face like a brick. My fingers trembling, my eyes flickering, I reread the entire letter in the vain hope of disproving myself, but only became more assured. By now, all the color must have had left my face, for I felt pale and lifeless as a ghost. My body was shaking. A thousand thoughts crossed my head, thoughts I can barely remember now, but seemed to mean the world then.

How?

And then, suddenly, despair turned to anger. My fingers clawed into the parchment. My teeth began to grind against each other. Anger turned to determination. I would not sit still. I would act upon it.

Like a fury I dashed out of my rooms, swirling through the halls of court like a dangerous madwoman. In a way, I was just that. I hurried towards the royal chambers, bashfully ignoring my father's guards trying to tell me he was in council. With more force than necessary, I pushed open the doors to his council room and dashed into the meeting.

The King angrily turned to the door. "What is the meaning of this… Mary?"

"Out, all of you," I barked at his councilors. Not very ladylike, yes, but I was beyond caring. "Out!"

For some reason, my father seemed to sense how important this was to me, and decided to listen to me first and scold me for my misbehavior second. He nodded at his stupefied men and sent them out. Then, very sternly, he turned to me.

"You act most unseemly, daughter. What is wrong with you?"

"It's a ruse!"

Henry frowned. "A ruse? What is?"

"Don't you understand? It's a trick! They tricked me, they tricked US," I practically yelled and threw Duncan's letter at my father. "It was all a lie."

Confused, Henry picked up the parchment and looked at it. "Mary, for the love of God, behave! What has gotten into you?"

"Look at it. Look at the words, the signature. Can't you see it?" My voice had become hoarse by now. "It's the same. It's absolutely identical!"

He took his time to understand my incoherent babbling, but switching his gaze between my reddened face, Duncan's letter, and the papers on his table, he slowly began to realize. His face turned ash gray.

"It cannot be true," he said quietly.

"Oh, but it is! It is all as you said, Father, and I was too blind to see! He has been playing us all the time; he has lied to me and you. He IS King James. We have been deceived, Father, by our own family!"

Henry didn't react. He simply stared at Duncan's signature, comparing it to that of King James. Even now, he seemed unwilling to accept the inevitable. His pride forbade it. But then, just like me, his mood took a swing in a totally different direction. The Earl's letter began to crumble in his hands.

"Damn her," he whispered in cold disgust. Then he looked at me, his eyes beaming with dark determination. "Come."

He needn't have said more. Like two eagles shooting down at their prey, we now rushed through the halls together. There could have been something comedic about it, looking at it today, but at the time, it wasn't funny at all. It was dead serious.

"How dare you," Henry yelled as he threw open the doors of Margaret's apartment. He didn't care a fig for the fact that she had only just begun to settle in. "How dare you spit into my face after all I have done for you?"

Her ladies recoiled from him in fear, but Margaret seemed unmoved. She continued to unpack a parcel.

"I do not know what you are speaking of, but your behavior is quite improper, dear brother," she reprimanded him.

"Don't you dare to call me brother after this," he hissed at her and threw the scrunched up parchment at her feet. "You knew all along, didn't you? Tell me, was it fun tricking my innocent daughter into believing she was conversing with a minor noble? Did you and your petulant son enjoy duping an unawakened maiden?"

Now, Margaret stopped her actions and looked at him. "Henry, you misjudge the situation."

"Oh, how can I misjudge something so perfectly clear? Tell me; was it your idea or your brat's? What did you hope to gain? Are you and your French friends preparing for war, is that it?"

"No!" Margaret also became louder now. "It is not like this. Henry, don't you understand? All of his advisors council him to favor the French and abandon England. I was acting in your best interest, in the interest of my home country."

Angrily pacing through the room, Henry had arrived by the fire place and was now blankly staring into the flames. "How can you call this home when you so easily betray us?"

"It is my home! And it's not betrayal! Henry, listen to me, it was the only way to convince James that a French marriage might not be useful, that he ought to marry your daughter instead. I only tried to make him see her in the best light possible."

With a loud noise, the King turned around, smashing some decorative cup that had been standing on the mantelpiece.

"And you think that's bloody necessary? To sell my daughter to that ungrateful bastard you call a son, like what, a cow? No, Margaret, no. I'll tell you this: my daughter is worth more than any of the French whores you would throw at James, combined! But he'll never know that, he'll never have her! Let him have his French harlot and see what weak brats he can get off her, for I sure as hell would never give him the pearl of my world. Tell him that, Margaret, tell him!"

By now, Henry had approached his sister and was holding her by the shoulders as he yelled at her. Desperately, she looked from him to me, as if to appeal to my female sweetness. Yet, apparently, my cold stare offered her no consolation. I didn't pity her at all after what she and her son had done to me.

"Henry, please…"

"Don't call me that," he spat and let go off her. "I'm the King of England, not your brother. You'll never speak to me that way again, never. Start packing, I want you gone from my soil before the week is out. Hence, you are forbidden from ever stepping on English ground again on pain of death. Return to your son and that frozen wasteland he calls himself king of."

He shot a dark glance at Margaret's trembling ladies before looking at her again.

"There'll be no summit. And tell your son that I'm being merciful this time, but only for the sake of sparing my daughter the shame of this affair becoming public. If he ever trespasses me again, I'll not be as kind, and I shan't remember he's my mother's grandson. Are we clear on that?"

Margaret couldn't even nod.

"Mary, we're leaving," Henry then said matter-of-factly. He took my hand in his, as if he was unsure whether I would follow his order, and pulled me out of the room.

Angrily, but ultimately aimlessly, the two of us wandered back to his council room where we sat down in quiet shock. Neither of us, it seemed, was able to fully process what had happened. Then, as the Tudor temper slowly faded away, Henry was the first to act. With a small sob on his lips, he pushed his face into his hands.

"I can't believe it. My own sister, my nephew, trying to… No."

"Father, please, don't… It was all my fault. I should have known sooner."

He shook his head. "No, sweetling. You're an ingénue, you couldn't possibly have seen through their scheme. It is I who is at fault. I should have protected you, and instead I threw you at them like a bone to a hound. It's all wrong." He laughed, but it was a disgusted sound. "I can only imagine how the laughed about us. How they enjoyed their mockery. I bet King Francis is behind it all, ultimately. He is a spiteful man."

I looked at him, unsure of what to say. His self-doubt and pain hurt me as well.

"They all laugh at us, Mary. They all think we're a minor island of no concern, Francis and James and that bloody cousin of yours in Spain. They all think they can play with us as they like."

"But they can't," I now returned, deadly determined. "And if they think so, they will soon find themselves mistaken. We are not minor, Father, we are England. We are Tudors. We are a force to be reckoned with, and we never offer friendship twice."

I don't know where that came from, but it felt good to say. Henry, too, seemed to like what he heard.

"You're right," he agreed in the same dangerously serious tone. "They'll get to know us soon enough. We are Tudors."

"And anyone who isn't us is an enemy," I added. I had never expected to say anything like it, but here I was, and I meant it.

"My daughter." Henry smiled darkly as he leaned over to kiss my forehead. "You may have a woman's body, but your heart is strong."

I nodded, beaming with pride. "Like yours, Father. And that of Elizabeth and Edward, and your Queen. We are the Tudor dynasty. We won't be trifled with."

Henry rose from his chair and turned to the window. "I'll have Cromwell write letters and make preparations. Let the world see what we are made of. Let us see if there aren't others more willing to be loyal friends. Who needs France and Scotland and Spain, or any of them? I say, to hell with them. We'll find others."

Thinking about a certain German duke, I hastily nodded in agreement. This was certainly not the direction I had expected history to take, but it wasn't entirely without merits. I may have made a grievous mistake in trusting Earl Duncan, no, the earl that never actually existed… but perhaps there was a way of turning this blunder into a triumph. Perhaps it was not too late to redeem myself.

"I may have a suggestion or two," I said carefully, coming to stand beside him.

He shot me a glance and nodded. "Whatever you say. I'll also have Anne write to her old friends in the Netherlands and elsewhere. Let us show them our determination." With that, he squeezed my hand. "And we'll find you a husband. One who comes with an army."

"I might even have a suggestion about that," I added half-smiling.

Henry laughed breathlessly. "My little warrior princess, what HAS gotten into you, really?"

Little did he know how close he was to the truth.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 – In which I gathered crucial information**

Calling me arrogant or selfish or foolish might not be entirely unwarranted, given how poorly I had handled the Duncan-James-situation. I know that much as well, knew it as soon as my initial shock and anger had turned back into my old, rational self. But, well. Once you've chosen a direction, you must go down the road. And I still meant what I had said, at least partly.

Not the part about war, of course not. Yes, we probably were surrounded by enemies, or at least countries and monarchs who couldn't care less about our wellbeing. But that didn't mean I wanted war. War, from a modern perspective, is nothing but a folly. It requires time, effort and men, and there's no guarantee you will win. What if it came to that and my father died, leaving as his heir a son who had not even lived past his first birthday? And besides, what good was there in winning wars, anyway, aside from the patting of Henry's ego? I was certain the historical Tudors could have achieved so much more if they had not so frequently quarreled with others and their own people, and so I decided not to pursue James's betrayal – for the moment.

"We must look to the continent," I found myself saying to Anne as we walked the gardens of Hampton Court.

She nodded briefly, her face still showing that she missed her son and daughter, who had been sent back to Hatfield.

"The King said much the same, which is why he and I have begun to make certain inquiries."

"You've written to your protestant friends," I concluded.

"Well…" The Queen didn't seem entirely comfortable with the matter, and I knew why.

"Please, Majesty, do not trouble yourself. I know these are political matters, not religious ones. Most monarchs use religion as a pretext when it suits them, all the while blatantly ignoring even the simplest of rules when it makes them uncomfortable. 'Do not kill', it says in the Old Testament. 'Love your enemies', Jesus taught us. 'Kill them, it's God's will', every general ever shouted. Well, I certainly know who I give credence to."

"I'm glad you should say so," Anne replied with a smile. "I did not want this to become a struggle of faith. And you are right, it is about political decisions. For far too long, England has been a plaything tossed between France and Spain. I might favor the French, you the Spanish, but ultimately, we are both English. We serve no one but our King and no other interests but ours."

I nodded. "So we are to seek other friends? Act while Francis and the Emperor fight over Italy, while my cousin is troubled by the Turks?"

Anne raised an eyebrow. "I did not know you had such a keen interest in continental affairs."

I smiled coyly. Well, you don't know how many documentaries I've watched, either, I wanted to add.

"I thought it best to prepare myself after the Scottish incident," I evaded the matter. "So, who can we turn to?"

"Francis may still be an option, if he can be coerced into considering England a partner, not a chess piece. But for that, we would need to appear stronger than we do right now," Anne analyzed, much to my surprise.

I had always assumed she was politically savvy, but seeing her in action forced a smile from me.

"I have corresponded with some of my old friends in the Netherlands. Your cousin and namesake, Mary of Austria, now rules there after Archduchess Margaret has died," Anne explained with a hint of sadness to her voice. "Apparently, the Emperor puts a lot of trust in his sister, but she not so much in him. She is facing a financial crisis, an open secret among her courtiers, and Charles refuses to pay her more. Also, they seem to differ on religious matters."

Now I was forced to frown. "But, surely my cousin is just as Catholic as the Emperor himself? Charles would never allow dissent in his family."

"No, he wouldn't. I have it on good authority that he threatened Mary on one occasion, saying she would be his bitterest enemy if she ever so much as took one step away from the Holy See. I know not how she took it, but my friends have told me she tries to interpret her brother's laws in the most tolerant ways possible."

My eyes were beaming by now. "Then I must write to her! The Netherlands are a prosperous country, and immensely important for our traders. If we could get her to ally with us, it would put pressure on both Spain and France."

"My thoughts exactly," Anne retorted. "I see now why the King asked me to include you in this matter. It is important that we all work together, for the future and betterment of this realm."

"And did he say anything about the Duke of Palatinate-Neuburg?"

Anne stopped, as did the trail of ladies who had been following us with decent distance. "No, he did not. What is there to know about that Duke?"

I most likely blushed. "Oh, nothing. He and his brother are reformists, or so I've heard, and with the Palatinate being a very central province, I just thought they might be useful and… forget that I asked. Let us not speak about politics all day. Tell me, are there any news from Hatfield? How does my darling brother fare?"

"He is a credit to his royal father in every way," Anne replied proudly. "Lady Bryan regularly writes to me about his health and wellbeing. They assure me everything is just fine, even if… if…"

She stopped walking and turned away from me. It was an awkward situation, with all the maids of honor stopping behind us, but I told them to wait and said nothing else. I knew this was about Michael and there was nothing I could do or say to make Anne's pain go away. Mine hadn't gone, either. Just thinking of the sweet boy's lifeless face made me fight against my tears, so instead I took Anne's hand, squeezed it hard and remained silent. After many long and deep breaths, she turned back to me and feigned a little smile.

"Let us look to the future," she said as if to reassure herself. "Let us look to England's future."

Which, by coincidence, was exactly what I had in mind. My tribulations with the Scottish had shown me that my web had not been spun wide enough. Yes, I had a few friends, and perhaps even useful informants, but in order to actually change something and to prevent the sadness that would befall the Tudor family, I would have to be more than that. I would have to remember everything they taught me about Machiavelli in school, and every episode of Game of Thrones I had ever watched. And by all means, I had to prevent myself from getting too emotionally involved once more, as I had with Duncan.

There were only two people at court I considered to be such cold-headed Machiavellian schemers. One of them was Cromwell, who certainly was no friend of mine, if not already an enemy, judging by the cold looks he gave me when he thought the King wouldn't see. The other was Anne Stanhope, my convenience friend. I would need to get closer to her, as she was the only one I considered trustworthy yet not an emotional friend of mine.

So I went to pay her a courtesy visit.

"I trust you have found your new lodgings suited to your tastes?"

"Very much so, indeed. My husband, though only a minor member of the King's council, has been given spacious apartments to the envy of many other courtiers. Edward of course took it as a token of the King's affection," Anne replied with a hint of irony in her voice.

"I promised you would rise," I gave back smiling.

Anne nodded, handing me a cup she had filled with wine. "I will not have it said that I am a woman shy of keeping her word. You got me to court, as you said you would, and I walk the floors with open eyes and keen ears. I overheard some nasty rumors the other day, but nothing particularly alarming for Your Highness. Assuming I had your permission, I put the rumors to rest."

I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you do?"

"I gave those ladies a piece of my mind not to speak about their betters in a manner befitting only guttersnipes," she replied with such haughtiness I could almost imagine what it must be like to be scolded by her.

"Well, then," I said grinning. "I must be grateful you took the matter in your hands, but please let me know about rumors in the future, however petty they may seem to you."

Anne put down her cup, frowning. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but why would you worry yourself with the opinion of sheep? Many of the ladies at court cannot even spell their name, let alone fabricate a scheme with enough momentum to harm the royal family," she mused. Then, her expression darkened. "Believe me, if you are to be afraid of anyone, it's not those light-headed girls. It's ambitious families with unmarried daughters."

"Like the Seymours?" I asked tentatively.

Much to my surprise, Anne didn't even try to deny it. "Yes, like them. Be aware of them. Sir John may be an old fool, but he is ambitious and has no qualms about anything. So, too, is his son Thomas."

"And your husband?"

"Is not a fool," Anne returned dryly. "Forgive me, I will not speak ill of Edward, not to you or anyone. As long as he rises at court, I know he'll be happy, but I surmise there'll come a day when he won't be satisfied anymore. Then he'll listen to the greedy wishes of that buffoon brother of his, and what Thomas lacks in wit, Edward can offer twice. Only the other day, I overheard him speaking of their sister and her connection to the Queen."

Now she had my intention absolutely. "Jane?"

Anne seemed surprised. "Jane? What, no. Not that pale, boring thing. They were speaking about Elizabeth, who was married to some important supporter of the Boleyn queen, Sir Anthony something. Recently widowed. Thomas said something about using her to gain the King's attention, since she was rather pretty, but my husband objected." She paused for a moment. "Not in principle though, he just didn't think your father would be interested in Elizabeth, since she is of a similar temper to the Queen, and also still busy with her little children."

"And what about their other, unmarried sisters? Would they push Jane in front of the King?"

Anne seemed to think about it for a moment. From the way she looked and how she had spoken about Jane earlier, I assumed she didn't hold her sister-in-law in the highest esteem.

"They might, if they saw any chance of benefitting from it. Do you think the King would even look at her? From what I have heard, he has not taken as many mistresses as he did with the previous Queen. I mean no disrespect to your mother, of course."

"No offense taken," I said, although it did sting a bit. "I cannot know for sure. The King must do as he wills, and we are bound to serve and obey. Yet I would not like for anyone to ruin the royal marriage. If you hear anything about it, even just a whisper, you must let me know. And for the love of God, do not act on it, at least not without telling me beforehand. It could prove ruinous for either you or me."

"And if they did anything suspicious, Sir John or my brother-in-law or even Edward, what would I gain from telling you? You'd call it treason and drag them down. I'd not be the first impoverished wife left without her husband because the King chose to make him a head shorter."

Damn, she was bold. I didn't even know why she thought she could dare to be this open with me, but on the other hand, I cherished it. There rarely was anyone these days who would speak boldly with me.

"Let me ask you this: if you saw or heard a man committing treason against His Majesty, would you keep it to yourself and let them go unpunished?"

Anne raised an eyebrow. "If it could get me killed or famished in the streets to speak about it, then perhaps I'd not be as good and loyal a subject as I am supposed to be."

"I am delighted by your honesty, Lady Seymour. And allow me to promise you this: if you ever feel the need to act against those closest to you because your honor as a loyal subject compels you to, you shall not suffer from it. Whatever ties you to those falling and drowning, I'll cut it loose. No harm shall come to you, no stain shall besmirch your honor, so long as you stay loyal to the crown."

"And to you," Anne added. It wasn't a question.

I nodded slowly. "Yes. Would you dispute my offer?"

"I think not. Your Highness has been most stalwart in your promises, and I would hold you to them when the time comes."

Reaching out my hand to shake hers, I smiled. "Good. Then you must do me the favor of keeping an eye on your husband and in-laws. Especially on the Lady Jane."

"What is it with her? She's the least interesting of the Seymour flock," Anne retorted, rolling her eyes.

"She might, but I have an inkling she could become important in the future. There is something about her… well, we need not bother ourselves with that for now, just say you'll pay attention to her."

"If it pleases you, then so it does me," Anne sternly replied. "In return, I wish to know more as well. I can see there is something afoot at court, something to do with the impromptu departure of the Scottish Dowager. I've heard it said the King and Queen do include you in their political discussions, so I'd rather like to hear what you know."

I frowned hesitantly. "Why?"

"Why do you want to know about Lady Jane? Inkling, you said. Curiosity, I say. I thought we had agreed that our reasons did not matter, as long as our aims matched?"

She had definitely been a good choice, I now concluded. This woman would have come far in history, but with my help, she could go even further. And in turn, she would help me prevent the destruction of my father's second marriage, Jane's premature death and keep England safely away from the Seymours' greedy clutches. If, in return, she wanted to be part of the continental game, then who was I to object?

"You are right. I cannot speak of all the matters, since revealing the King's intelligence to anyone outside the council and royal family could be considered treasonable, but I'll give you the gist of it. And I'll tell you something you will definitely want to hear."

Anne's eyes lit up. "Oh, and what would that be?"

I smiled, letting her wait for a second. Then, I said: "I'm considering getting married."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 16 – In which I made a pact**

"Have you come for my absolution or my help, then?"

These were Catherine of Aragon's words, and certainly not those I had expected her to say when I came to tell her about my political maneuvering plans. On a distressingly hot day in summer 1535, I had ridden out to the monastery where my mother now dwelled to… well, inform her? Ask for guidance? Or maybe absolution, yes? I'm no longer sure what I wanted. Perhaps I just needed to see my mother.

And what a surprise she was! I knew that in real life, she didn't even have one year left to live, but she clearly didn't look it. True, she was getting old by the standards of the time, but she appeared quite vivid and healthy. Perhaps, letting go of that messy divorce had been beneficial for her? She seemed to have adjusted to her clerical life, even though she had never wanted it. And now I dashed in, bringing her peaceful life into disarray by telling her about my plans.

About the troubles the Scottish had caused.

About Mary of Austria in the Netherlands and how I wanted her to ally with us.

About Spain and France and the Ottoman Empire and all of them.

I had basically told my own mother that I, mere girl that I still was, wanted to meddle in political affairs, and not only that, but that I wanted to antagonize her beloved nephew by using her niece, my cousin, to England's advantage. And here's what she returned:

"Have you come for my absolution or my help, then?"

I was dumbfounded for quite some time before answering. "Would you help me?"

"Of course, mi hija," Catherine said smiling. "You have a keen mind for politics, for you are your mother's daughter. Why would I keep you from that?"

"But I… the Emperor might not be overly pleased…"

She nodded. "But that is what kings ought to do. They must make difficult decisions and endure the consequences. They must take risks to further their people's course. You have it in you to be a king, Mary. I have known all along, and now you are beginning to realize. One day, you will wear a crown, my daughter, because you were born to it."

Her words somehow made me tremble. Even though I had told her time and again that I didn't want the crown, her relentless insistence on my abilities somehow made me feel proud and loved.

"If it must be so, see what your cousin can do for you. Only I ask that you be careful. The Emperor is your cousin and a most loyal follower of our Holy Father, as you should be."

"Of course," I interjected.

"Be a good Christian, my sweet. Be kind and charitable. Do what is best for the people God has placed in your care. If you think speaking to Mary of Austria will help, then I shall write to her and have her agree to invite you. We shall make it seem like a family meeting, nothing too grand or official. Just you and a few ladies visiting the Low Countries. Would that please you?"

My eyes lit up. "Immeasurably so! How can I thank… I would have never thought…"

Catherine smiled. Was there a wink in the corner of her eye? I couldn't tell. She looked out of the window, half-smiling, half-sad, and sighed.

"You need not be surprised, for I was a princess long before I became your mother, and a Spanish princess at that, daughter of Isabella of Castille! You knew me but as a mother, yet you are no longer a little girl. Look at you, all grown, my beautiful Mary. You don't need toys and hugs anymore, you need advice on how to deal in politics and how to find a proper husband. I trust the King does not neglect the issue? You are nineteen now, sweetheart, you ought to be married with beautiful little children of your own."

"Mother…" I blushed, there was no way to fight it. "Well, yes, Father promised he would look into the matter soon. Don't fret for me, I won't die a lonely spinster, I promise. And I won't marry anyone without your approval."

"It shall be freely granted once I know you are happy, my girl," Catherine replied in the kindest of ways, gently touching my face. "Do not settle for anything less than happiness."

I promised her that and some other things as well. I would have promised her everything, I'm afraid, because there was no way to resist this lovely mixture of political savvy and motherly love. And I'd use the chance she was offering me by writing to Mary of Austria, and I'd make her proud.

And so, two months later, a boat set sail on a windy day. It had taken me some time to convince the King that leaving the country and speaking to Mary in person was necessary, which he at first was shy to accept. He objected on grounds of my safety, and I think he actually cared. So I promised to take a few guardians along beside the hand-picked ladies that would be honored to join me. The Queen insisted one of her cousins, Francis Bryan, would head my envoy, as he was experienced with European courts. I had no objections to that.

To me, choosing the right ladies was of graver importance. Beside Cecily, the personal maid who had stuck with me since Ludlow, I absolutely wanted to bring Mary Fitzroy. She was a shy, sweet girl, who would benefit from seeing more than just the strip of land she had been born on. Aside from that, I wanted to show her that allegiance to me paid off, so the trip was something like a reward. The Queen had also offered me her ladies to choose from, so I chose Madge Shelton, Nan Gainsford and Jane Seymour.

Yes, Jane. Why her, you might ask. Some of Anne's ladies asked the same. I had never shown any particular interest in Jane so far, so it came as a surprise, but most of them quickly dismissed their skeptical thoughts. And how would they know that I wasn't trying to favor Jane, but to keep her away from the King, for both her and my sake? I didn't want her to be pushed in front of Henry, to cause Anne's miscarriage, or to die in childbed. She may have been, as Anne Stanhope put it, meek, but that didn't mean I wanted her to suffer. On the contrary. I was adamant on getting to know her during the trip, on finding out what she herself actually wanted, and perhaps aid her in getting it.

Still, there was one more woman on the boat with us: Anne Stanhope. She wasn't officially part of my retinue, but simply wanted 'to travel to the Netherlands and Germany to visit friends' and 'happened to tag along'. It was a pretext, of course, but subtle enough for everyone to buy it. At first, Anne had been angrily disappointed at being denied the honor of coming to the Low Countries with me, but then I had explained to her that we should not appear to be closely affiliated, and that anyway, I had a more important task for her. She no longer complained, then.

So Mary, Madge, Nan, Jane and I went to the court of Mary of Austria, while Anne went to Germany to do my bidding. She would go to Cleves and some other places, and she would specifically take a look at a certain German duke. I had bluntly told her that I was considering marrying him, and for what reasons, and that I had to rely on her judgment. That, Anne had agreed, was a task more suited to her abilities, and certainly just as much of an honor as coming to the Netherlands. Still, my ladies didn't know about it and neither did anyone else, though I assume Sir Francis suspected something when he saw me reminding Anne of her duties to me. He didn't say anything, though, and he needn't have said anything. My girls did that for him, all the time, and non-stop.

"I can't believe it. Everything is so different! Have you seen their headdresses? The jewelry?"

It was Madge Shelton speaking, and Mary Fitzroy quickly agreed.

"I thought I was the only one astonished by them. All of it seems so alien to me."

"But not Mary of Austria. She has been so kind to warmly receive us as she did. We ought to be grateful we didn't go to Germany, like your sister-in-law did, Lady Jane. At least here, people have manners. I've heard it said the Germans were a brutish kind," Lady Nan interjected, turning to Jane Seymour. "How did you find the Archduchess?"

"The… oh, um. Archduchess Mary has been very polite, yes, and gracious," Jane replied, seeming somewhat insecure.

Mary Fitzroy again chimed in. "But did you see the way everyone was looking at us, and at the Princess? How she carried herself with such dignity and modesty?"

"Yes, I saw it, too," Jane nodded. "We are blessed with a mistress like her."

I was in the adjacent room, so they probably didn't know I could hear every word they said.

"The Queen is our mistress," Nan rudely objected.

Jane's voice sounded taken off guard. "Yes, well, but for the time being, I mean…"

A knock on the door startled my flock of hens, so I could not understand what Nan replied to that, or whether she had said anything at all. Instead, I heard a messenger telling us that the Archduchess had invited me (and thus my ladies) over for biscuits and music. I wasn't particularly fond of either, by now beginning to profoundly dislike the company of women, but on the other hand, I hoped it was just a pretext for Mary and I to speak freely. She must have known I wanted something.

And so she did.

After my ladies had settled in with hers, both she and I sat down by a window. I took my time to study her, then, as she did with me. Mary wasn't a beautiful woman, having inherited the Habsburg chin and rather manly looks. She also didn't appear to possess the easy charm I remembered from her brother, Emperor Charles. But she was intelligent and willful, I could see it in her eyes. She was a woman with a mission.

"I have warmly received news from my beloved aunt. It is a blessing to know she is well after all she has been put through," Mary tentatively started.

"Yes, it has been the most uneasy years for all of us. But my mother has found her peace and happiness knowing that I am well taken care of."

Mary looked out the window. "I barely knew my mother. She fell ill when I was but I child, so my aunt Margaret took me in, me and Charles and the rest of us. She was a formidable woman. And now I am here to fill her shoes and find them far too big."

Her honesty surprised me, but I simply assumed she trusted me because I was family.

"Queen Anne has often told me about Archduchess Margaret, and how incomparable she was."

"Oh yes, Anne, I remember her from Mechelen," Mary agreed, raising an eyebrow. "I would have never guessed to see her head crowned one day. Though she was quite ambitious and feisty, even then. Still, she ought not to have replaced your mother. I apologize for her behavior, she should have known better."

"I… thank you, but this is uncalled for. The Queen did not replace my mother. We… all of us are content with the outcome. Let us speak no more of it," I tried to evade the issue. "I'd rather speak about great aunt Margaret's shoes. They are what I have come for. No, don't worry, I seek not to replace you, dear cousin. I mean to help you."

Mary was clearly mistrustful. "And why should you?"

"You and I are granddaughters of Isabella of Spain. We are thrown into a world of men's power, and we struggle to overcome their obstacles day by day. My mother has taught me to be strong and smart, and I guess Lady Margaret has told you the same. Now, their days are gone, but we remain. I wish for us to fight together rather than alone. Does that truly come as a surprise?"

A loud giggle interrupted us. We both looked at our ladies with stern faces, and as we turned back to each other, noticed the other's expression. The situation made us smile.

"Men's power… did you know that I was Queen of Hungary when I was your age?" Mary suddenly began. "I didn't know a word when I went. I didn't know Louis, my husband. I was terribly afraid. But I trusted in God, and He rewarded me. Louis was the gentlest of souls, and I worshipped him. He allowed me to partake, to write letters, to negotiate. It was a wonderful new world… and then, the Turks came. Lord knows, I will never commit the King of France's folly by trusting these abominable heathens. They invaded our country, they burned cities to the ground, and in the end, they took my husband. This is all they left me with."

Her voice had grown bitter as she touched her cleavage to produce a heart-shaped medallion made from silver. I didn't know what to say to her sudden confession.

"I was utterly alone. I had a country to take care of, and I was not even twenty-three. But I managed, and I managed well. I was so afraid because of my youth and inexperience, yet I persisted. And Ferdinand, my brother, trusted me to help him even after he'd arrived, as did Charles when he sent me here. But they never truly wanted it. They did not like handing over their power to me. They used me because I was there, because I was family, because they could trust no one else. Yet still they urged me to remarry whenever we spoke, not caring about the heart I had lost at the Battle of Mohács." She almost spit out those last words while looking at the medallion. "Do not speak of men's power over me. I've felt it every day of my life."

Whoa, there seemed to be lots of stored up emotions! Was I the first one she could open up to?

"I am sorry, I didn't know."

Mary shook her head. "No, it is I who must apologize. I let my anger get the better of me, which happens far too frequently, as I am told. I am not like her, like Margaret. She waved away bitterness with a smile and greeted even her worst enemies with charm. I'm not like… I can't be like that. I ought not to be here, yet Charles insists on it, and still he doesn't fully trust or support me. My finances are in disarray, as are these countries, and all I get from him is 'be sure to do your best'. But what am I to do when the French are greedily lurking at Metz and other cities, and I have no means to fund a proper army? Tell me, cousin, is this something you can help me with?"

Her words sounded like she expected me to say no, to falter in awe before her troubles. But I had known about some of it beforehand, and I wouldn't be deterred. So instead, I replied:

"Yes."

She looked at me with eyes wide open.

"I have heard some about your plight, and will listen to it all if you so wish. We are not so unlike, you and I, the Netherlands and England. We are both torn between the wishes of the Emperor and King Francis, and we have to fight teeth and claws to keep what is ours. This is what I came for indeed, cousin: to make you see how both of us could benefit from an alliance. We may be weak on our own, overpowered by those who would use us, but together… together we control trade on the English Channel. We have friends in every other European country. We are not alone, cousin."

"What would you have me do?" Mary laughed without tone. "Revolt against my own brother, the Holy Roman Emperor?"

I smiled. "No, no. Not revolt. That is such a harsh thing to do. It is something the men would do, sort out their differences with iron and blood. We have no need of such brutalities. As I said, we have influence. We control far more than we think. All we need to do is twist and twitch. Write letters, grant passages to ships, broker marriages. Build up pressure. Show them just how much they need us. Make them respect us like your late husband apparently respected you."

Mary remained silent for a while, so long in fact that I feared I had overstepped a boundary by mentioning her husband. But then, she smiled faintly.

"Louis appreciated me for who I was. He was so sweet… and he was honest with me, and I with him. There has been nobody ever since that I could speak freely with," she said woefully. "Are you saying that I can speak freely to you?"

"You need someone to share the trials and tribulations of your heart. If you wish to uphold your vow and never remarry, there will never be anyone like Louis. I can't replace him, either. But yes, I am offering you my friendship, and honesty, and loyalty. If you will have them, they are yours."

"And in turn, you want me to be a friend to your royal father?"

"No," I replied smiling. "Just to me. It might seem the same, for the time being, but as you said, men's power over us does not always conform to our wishes. So we must bend them accordingly and make them believe it was their will all along, when it truth we have been pulling the strings."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Aunt Catherine taught you that?"

"She… and others. We must learn from past mistakes. And whilst I can never be my mother, or you Lady Margaret, we can be ourselves. Cousin, let me assure you of this: we possess the hearts of Isabella the Warrior Queen. We can be so much more. We can change things – for the better. Say you will consider it."

"I will," Mary suddenly and quite immediately replied. "But on this condition: that we oppose King Francis's Turkish policies. I will never condone the man's alliance with these barbarous heretics. They besmirch everything that is holy, everything that it means to be a good, Christian soul. I shall never forget nor forgive. And whenever I can, I will deal them as much damage as possible, and I would expect you to do the same."

She seemed adamant about it. Burningly so. And while I thought it a pity, because personally I would not have objected to an alliance with the Ottoman Empire, I could understand her sentiment. I knew for certain I would find it hard to forgive anyone who killed those I loved as much as Mary had loved Louis. And if hating the Turks was the price I had to pay for this alliance, so be it.

"I do so swear. Never shall we stray from the path of our good Christian faith. But I will not kill a man for his beliefs, however false they may be, so long as he remains peaceful. Only if they threaten the people entrusted to my care will I act."

"Oh, but they do. They do," Mary assured me darkly. "Still, I accept. And I am grateful for your offer and your visit, cousin. It is a most welcome helping hand in the darkest of hours. Maybe this is the Lord's doing."

"Maybe," I readily agreed. "So it is agreed, then? You and I, the Netherlands and England, shall be firm friends?"

Mary nodded and rose to her feet. "I'll write letters to your King and Queen. And to my beloved aunt, your saintly mother. And I'll also send some more men to support our ambassador to England. Perhaps some ladies, as well? Would you object to a few helpful marriage alliances?"

"Not at all. I was rather hoping you'd bring it up. Some of the ladies that came with me are unmarried as of yet. Lady Jane Seymour, for example," I quickly threw Jane in the mix. Perhaps this was my chance of getting her out of harm's way? Perhaps she could be happy in the Netherlands? She certainly seemed to enjoy herself at this court.

"I shall look at her more closely, then, and have a list of suitable bachelors and noble ladies drawn up. All quietly, of course. We need not startle my brother, or the French, or anyone for that matter."

"Indeed," I agreed, and we both smiled. "Subtle, yet effective."

"That sounds like something Margaret would have said."

I nodded. "And now it's something you will act upon. You and I. Let us shape Europe."

She turned to go, but before we rejoined our ladies, Mary paused one more time. "When you say it like that, it sounds so easy. Like I have never had a care in the world. Only days ago, I didn't know what to do, what to say, who to ask for help, but here you are, the cousin I've never met, and I feel like you are closer to me than even my sisters," she mused. "Which, I think, is good. You certainly know how to charm people, and that might be useful. Perhaps there is more of Margaret in you than you might think."

"I take that for a compliment!"

"You better had," Mary agreed, half-grinning. Then she turned to our hens and raised her voice. "Now, ladies, shall we ask our good musicians to play a dancing tune? We have been sitting for far too long. I say we deserve to get a little exercise. We deserve some action. Do you agree?"

The girls all laughed and jubilated, but only I knew the true meaning of her words. She had felt powerless and swooning for so long, forced to sit in a chair she had never wanted, and I had offered her a way out. A way to free herself, to take control. A path I had convinced her to take and that we would walk together.

For better or for worse.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 – In which I met Philipp**

I felt elated as I stepped on the boat carrying me home to England. All I had set out to achieve in the Netherlands, I had done, perhaps even more. Mary and I had spoken some more, and even though we were about ten years apart, I could have sworn we were sisters. There was a deep understanding between us – one that I didn't have to fake. For a 1500s woman, Mary of Austria had surprisingly modern views and ways of thinking, and I liked that. I would do my best to foster these aspects of her personality. Perhaps, then, I could change more than just England. Perhaps I could influence the whole of Europe.

What hard times there were still to come, I faintly remembered from school. Religious persecutions and wars. It would take until after the Second World War for Europe to see peace between the major countries. Another 400 years! Was there, then, a chance for me to speed things about, if ever so slightly? The idea intrigued me.

Aside from that, my secret errand had also been successful, as Anne Stanhope informed me. She just 'happened' to have finished her journey at the same time as my visit with Mary had ended. So there we were, on the same boat, and nobody suspected anything when I stood on deck with her having a light chit-chat about these past weeks.

Only, it wasn't chit-chat. Anne told me about the Duke of Cleves and his sisters, about his political plans, and his friends in the German states. About the reformation (about which she was truly enthusiastic and not afraid to show it, not even to me) and the current movement against my cousin, the Emperor. There was a full-fletched war brewing, I could sense it. And then, she spoke about Philipp.

"So, what do you say? Is he… suitable?"

"He's not what I expected," Anne returned bluntly. "I didn't think you'd even consider a Lutheran, though I must say he seems no more than lukewarm about his religious beliefs. He is more interested in winning glory on the battlefield and having a good life."

I frowned. "So… is that bad?"

"No, not at all!" Anne laughed. "In fact, I thought he was rather charming. A well-travelled man with knowledge of the world. A man not afraid to do what is necessary. We need more men like the Duke in England."

"Should I consider his proposal, then?"

"Rather, he would consider yours. When I spoke to him about the matter – discreetly, of course, as you asked – he seemed intrigued. He would come to His Majesty's court for Christmastide, if it pleased you and the King. What say you?"

I said yes. It sounded like a feasible idea now that Anne had given the liaison her blessing. I still couldn't be too sure it would be the best plan to marry him, but I trusted her reasoning. If he was good enough for a critical mind like Anne's, he might be good enough for mine.

And so the days went by, the sun faded and the Holy Season drew closer. The King had not objected to having foreign guests for Christmas, although I must admit I did not fully mention why I had invited him. Well, if anything came from it, my father would know soon enough. I was in a jolly mood, looking forward to the visit and enjoying the blossoming relationship with Mary of Austria, who wrote to me frequently. Also, both Anne Stanhope and Queen Anne were with child, something that pleased me immeasurably. I would have another sibling and prevent Anne's painful history of miscarriage, and for the other Anne, I would keep my promise of giving her child a good life.

In fact, I was so merry that even I truly considered getting married and having children, even after all that had happened to Michael. Perhaps it was all worth it. Perhaps Philipp could be worth it.

Well, he certainly looked the part.

"His Grace, Duke Philip of Bavaria. Your Grace, this is my lovely step-daughter, the Princess Mary," the Queen finally introduced me to the man I had been waiting for so long. It was only right and proper that we should be introduced this way, though a foolish little part of me had hoped for the romantic meeting of the TV show.

"Your Grace, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," I told him in my sweetest voice.

Philipp was a tall man of about thirty, brown haired, brown eyed, with a short trimmed beard, a playful smile and the air of a roguish knight. I liked it.

"Princess Mary, it is so good to finally be introduced to you. Tales of your beauty and wit have travelled far and wide," he returned kindly. "Forgive my impetuosity, but I have also heard you were an excellent dancer. At tonight's dance, would you do me the honor of showing me in person?"

I smiled and nodded graciously. "Of course, I'd be delighted to. I shall be looking forward to it."

He took me by my word. We danced, we spoke, we drank, we laughed. It was one of the best evenings I had had in quite a while, even comparable to my real life party nights with friends. Duke Philipp certainly was good company, one that I knew I would like to enjoy some more.

But was it enough to marry him? I had been in love before, even at first sight, and that had felt different. Had I changed? Or was I just too impatient? Could I afford patience, after all? I needed to know. I needed to make a step.

On the seventh day of Christmas, I asked him: "Your Grace… I would ask you something, if you will be honest with me."

"With pleasure, my Princess."

"You… when you spoke to Lady Seymour, back in Germany, what did she tell you about me? About the purpose of this visit?"

"Well," he said and smiled. "She told me you were England's beloved princess, gracious and kind, but also smart. A true daughter of Catherine of Aragon."

I raised an eyebrow. "That is what she said?"

"Not her words exactly, but in principle, yes. Forgive my weak memory, Princess, I am an old man," Philipp laughed. "Oh, and she informed me you might be interested in giving me your hand in marriage."

The laconic way he put it almost made me choke on my wine. I coughed several times, causing him to laugh even more.

"Are you unwell? Forgive me if I am mistaken, I did not think me saying so would lead to your untimely demise. Please, do not die, Princess, for I fear your royal father would have me cut a head shorter in the instant."

"Oh yes, he certainly would," I agreed, now laughing myself.

"Ah, so you are getting better again. I must say, I am relieved. It would have been a pity for me to marry a corpse," he returned dryly. My surprised looked caused him to smile cheekily. "Well, then, my Princess, I have considered your proposal, if we might call it that. The Lady Seymour was kind enough to explain to me the benefits of this union, though she needn't have done so. I can see them for myself, and I must say, it is unlike any offer I have ever received. Only I wonder – why would you ask me, of all people?"

I had anticipated this question to come up sooner or later, but right now, I was still a bit surprised. So I did what I did far too often – I improvised.

"Your reputation precedes you, Your Grace. They say you are a knowledgeable man, a man with many talents. Surely you can understand that England is in need of such allies."

"And you would be willing to sacrifice your personal happiness to meet that end?"

I blinked twice. "Sacrifice? Would I be sacrificing it, truly? I was under the impression we got along well, Your Grace. Have I been mistaken?"

"No, not at all." Philipp smiled charmingly. "I find your company most refreshing. I just wondered… a beautiful young lady like yourself, so full of dreams and hopes… why would you marry an old bachelor? A man who has seen far too many bloody days to ever truly sleep soundly again? There are better men for you to wed, men of higher standing, wealthier men, younger and more virile ones."

"But not more honest ones," I returned. We locked eyes, now absolutely serious in our tone. "I do not seek a dashing young suitor, Your Grace. I need an ally. A friend. Someone to share and trust."

"Then I must consider myself honored you should have even taken me into account. No woman has ever spoken to me like that, ever, and I appreciate your honesty," he said and carefully took my hand in his. "I cannot promise you happiness, Your Highness, for anyone who says so is a foolish man. Still, if you would have me, I would promise you to be honest and free, and to respect you as you would respect me."

I grinned. "So you would tell me before you took a mistress?"

Where did that come from? I cannot tell, it just popped out my mouth before I could even think, but Philipp seemed undeterred. In fact, he returned the grin.

"I… don't think I would be needing a mistress so soon."

"Well, in that case… I think we might have an agreement. Though you would have to ask my Father, the King, first. Of course."

Smiling, he placed a kiss on my hand and nodded. "I will before I leave. Let us pray His Majesty is unlike other fathers and thus willing to let his daughter go."

"He will if I ask it," I explained smiling.

"Oh, will he, then? It seems there is another, a true power behind the throne… I shall wait and see, then. And I will not keep you any longer, now, since I fear I have already spoken to you for far too long. People might consider it… inappropriate, and I would not have any harm come to your reputation."

"Your Grace is very considerate."

"I'm a cautious man… when it suits me," Philipp said smiling. "I shall see you on the morrow, then, after I have spoken to the King. That is, if he hasn't cut off my head for brashly asking for your hand. In any case, will you give my respects to Lady Seymour?"

"Yes, I will thank her on your behalf, if it pleases you."

Philipp nodded and bowed. "It would. I wish you a pleasant day, Princess Mary. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas… Philipp."

As I watched him go, I smiled, but I still wasn't sure I had done the right thing. Could this truly work? Could we, perhaps, even be happy? Have a bunch of beautiful children and grow old and happy? No, probably not, this was the Tudor era, after all. But the foolish part of my mind dared to hope for it, even though the Duncan-James-affair had taught me to be careful. No, I wouldn't lose my heart to Philipp… at least not yet. But I would take risks.

He spoke to the King. I spoke to the King. The New Year came. Philipp returned to Germany. By the mid of January, secret negotiations had begun. Fortunately, the King agreed to let me in. I was absolutely wrapped into brokering a good marriage deal. I tried getting troops, tried pushing the King to grant Philipp lands and titles in England so he would come here. I even used Mary of Austria's influence to get what I needed, but finally, I succeeded.

On my 20th birthday, the King announced his beloved daughter would wed the Duke of Bavaria, soon Duke of Cornwall, before the year was over.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 – In which fate worked against me**

By the time my engagement to Philipp was made official, I was no longer in London. There was another place I had to be, a special person who I had to tell the news in person: my mother. I was nervous about it, knowing that Catherine would not be pleased by Philipp's Lutheran views, but I reminded myself that this was the path I had chosen. I would make her see reason, somehow.

After we pulled away from our initial embrace, I had her sit down and looked at her smiling. Catherine apparently noticed there was something odd.

"Tell me, my daughter, what news is there from court? I have heard rumors your father's wife was with child."

"She is," I confirmed. "We are all praying for her safe delivery."

"Well, I shall include her in my prayers also," Catherine then said, much to my surprise. She must have noticed my frown, for she added: "Do not think I wish her ill, sweetheart. I did not like giving up the jewels which by right belonged to me to adorn a woman like… her, but this is how it is. I have made my peace with God and this situation, and I will never be angry again. I can only advise you to do the same."

I nodded slowly. "I have… found a means to be on good terms with the Queen. And I love my siblings. Truly."

"I'm glad to hear it, although you ought to be having sweet little ones of your own by now. I must write to the King to remind him of his fatherly duties. It was high time he found a noble man of good character to court you."

"Well, he has," I blurted out. "They'll announce it tomorrow."

Catherine looked at me in disbelief for a moment before smiling as widely as I have never seen her before. Then she hugged me long and deeply and overjoyed. To think that in real life, she would have been lying in bed now dying of cancer (probably) felt incredibly strange. Surreal, even. This woman was so full of life, and so happy!

"Oh my sweet, you must tell me everything about it."

I blushed a little. "Well… his name is Philipp of Bavaria. He is a German duke."

"A foreigner?" Catherine raised an eyebrow. "Would you not have preferred a Spanish match?"

"Mother, surely you can understand how tense the situation is at the moment. Choosing a Spaniard or a Frenchman now would seem almost like a declaration of war to the other," I tried to convince her.

Catherine took a while, but then she nodded. "If it pleases you, then it shall make me happy as well. Tell me about your German duke, then."

"He's a little older than me, a renowned warrior. He has travelled through all of Europe. They say he knows a lot about the world."

"Yes, but is he kind?"

I was forced to smile by her consideration. "Yes, mother, he is. I have met him in person and I have spoken to him about the engagement. He is a charming man, good-natured, and treats me with the utmost respect."

"That is what I needed to know. It would pain me to think that you, who should have married a king, would be given to a brutish foreigner with no lands or titles."

"Oh, don't fret for me, then. The King has promised to give Philipp an English dukedom, Cornwall perhaps. He'd be one of the most powerful men, and he'd bring soldiers to reinforce our troops. With the help of his brother and German allies, we'd be a worthy match for any other European king."

"You sound like your grandmother," Catherine remarked smiling. "I am proud of you, my little girl. And I know that, with your kindness and wit, you will lead your future husband back on the path of righteousness."

I frowned. "I do not understand…"

"He is a heretic, is he not? Ever so many of these German princes have succumbed to Luther's follies. That is why your father would consider an alliance with the Duke, to threaten His Holiness by show of force. Do not mistake me for a simple nun, daughter, I am my parents' daughter."

Yes, you are, I thought. The more we spoke, the more my respect for her grew. She truly was a formidable woman, and in a way, I regretted no longer having her as queen. But then again, she seemed to be truly happy here in the convent.

"I must admit it, yes. But Philipp has assured me he would never force me to act against my conscience, and besides, he didn't seem overly invested in the matter. As you say, I should be able to save his soul."

Catherine gently caressed my cheeks and smiled. "Good. Then I am ever so happy knowing you will be well taken care of. And when you become queen, it will be good to have a husband with no country of his own. My parents always fought hard to keep together their two realms – you will not suffer their troubles."

"But mother, I have no intention of being queen."

"As you have told me. But God has. He must will it, my sweet, for how else is this country ever to return to obedience? Who will save people's souls? I have long believed I would have to remain your father's queen for this to be your fate, but I see now you were right. Only by stepping back I could ensure you stayed within His Majesty's good graces, and within time, he will name you as his successor. It's the Lord's will. One day, you will understand."

I sighed deeply. Wherever Catherine's conviction came from, I could not tell. Part of me was annoyed by it, but part was also impressed. There was probably no one in England who believed as firmly in me as my mother. It was actually touching.

"Will I be allowed to attend the wedding?"

"I shall personally ask the King," I promised her. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it happen. He would surely not deny me this wish, so long as it would not cause trouble."

"I have no intention of causing him trouble ever again," Catherine said somewhat bitterly, but quickly recovered and smiled. "I only wish to see my daughter wed, which is the biggest consolation to any mother. And one day to hold my grandchildren, of which I have dreamed so long."

I took her hands in mine and nodded. "I swear to you, I will do everything within my powers to grant you these wishes. I would do ever so much to make you happy, for you have sacrificed ever so much for me."

"I'm your mother. I would sacrifice anything for you," she assured me.

This was the happy note on which I left her. I was so elated, so content, so high on happiness that it made my fall even more painful. Once I returned to London, reality hit me like a brick smashing in my face. Everything I had achieved over the last months seemed to vanish in one instant when I entered court and saw the dark faces. I don't know how, but I immediately understood what had happened. I had tried to prevent things from happening – and failed.

Anne had lost the baby.

And to make matters worse, it had happened just as it had been supposed to: she'd seen my father wenching with Jane Seymour.

I was shocked. And I was angry. Hadn't I told Jane I was looking for a prosperous foreign marriage for her? Hadn't I told Anne Stanhope to inform me on Jane and her possible relationship to the King? Hadn't I instructed Anne's physicians on how to care for her?

Why, then, had things gone so horribly wrong? How could this have happened?

I asked the only person who could know.

"You! You should have told me about everything that went on in court, but no! The Queen has lost my brother because of the machinations of your stupid sister-in-law," I yelled at Anne Stanhope once we were in private. I didn't care she was pregnant, too. I was angry.

"Your Highness has every reason to be mad, but not with me. I had wanted to tell you straight after your return. I didn't know they would act so quickly."

I stopped and raised an eyebrow. "They?"

Putting a hand on her swollen belly, Anne nodded. "My in-laws. You were right about them. I would not have believed it at first, I wanted to deny what I had heard, but when the Queen lost her child… I know I have sworn you an oath, and I shall stick to it. For the sake of my child, I cannot condone the murder of the Queen's babe."

"Then tell me, tell me what you know! For the love of God!"

"They poisoned her," Anne said darkly. "I could not make sense of Edward's words when I overheard them, but now I understand."

I began to franticly walk up and down. "What words? Speak, by all matters, speak!"

"I think they instructed my sister-in-law to be with the King that day, and then they had something put in the Queen's wine, which she took to calm her nerves. It lost her the child."

"My brother was murdered?"

Anne nodded, protectively touching her belly. "I believe so, yes. But I have no proof. There is naught I could do."

"You are telling me, which is the best way to deal with it. Who was privy to this heinous plot, do you know?"

"I hate to say, but my husband was, and so was his brother. What Jane knows, I'm not sure of, for I can hardly imagine she was capable of such concise thinking. But there was someone else, someone Edward spoke to. I could not see or hear them clearly, but I think it was a man. It must have been someone at court, otherwise my servants would have searched him more profoundly and thus remembered him. I asked them."

"Thank you for your service, you are helping me a great deal. But we must investigate this matter further before we act. There is a conspiracy afoot, and only you and I can stop it."

"You wish for me to spy on my own husband and deliver him to the King's justice. The father of my child," Anne stated rather coldly.

Still walking around, I looked at her puzzled. "Would you rather your child grew up with a traitor father? Would you rather the crime of killing a prince go unpunished? What if it was your son?"

"I'd do anything to protect my babe. Anything. I cannot risk him losing everything before he is even born, all for the crimes of his father."

Now I stopped walking. "And you wouldn't. I promise, no, I swear to you, on my immortal soul, that your child will not be harmed by this affair. Whatever happens, whatever the outcome, I'll protect him. I know my demands of you are harsh, but I must ask them nevertheless, and I promise to repay you fully. Your child is in no danger if you do what is right."

Slowly, Anne rose to her feet. "You have a way of speaking… I know this is foolish, and dangerous, and perhaps even an offense to God. But what am I to do? I pledged my allegiance to you, and have received nothing but kindness so far. More than Edward could ever get me. I'd rather stick by you than him. You have my word, I'll do all I can to uncover the plots being concocted this very moment."

"I am forever grateful for your loyalty," I assured Anne, taking a sapphire ring off my finger. Her eyes grew wide as I handed it to her. It was more precious than anything she wore, and perhaps than anything she possessed at all. "Take it as a token of my affection and loyalty to you. If I should ever fail you, sell it and you will have no more worries for your child."

"Your Highness is…" Anne stopped, somewhat overwhelmed, but then regained her composure quickly. "Very generous. I hope to always remain on your good side."

"Find out about the machinations of your husband and you will. Find out who killed my brother, and what other nefarious plans are being plotted. Help me stop this madness."

Anne nodded and smiled darkly. "Oh, don't worry, my Princess. I made a promise now, and I shall never be deterred. You'll get your answers in due time, though I highly doubt you'll like them."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 – In which I uncovered a plot**

Anne kept her promise. I don't know how she did it, but by March, she had accumulated enough useful information for me to piece some things together. This was by far bigger than I had assumed. And besides, seeing how thoroughly Anne labored for me even though she was set to give birth any time soon and even though she had to work against her baby's father truly impressed me. It made me wonder what would have happened if I hadn't secured her loyalty before she rose at court. In real life, she would surely have never betrayed Edward since it was only through him that she could rise. I had given her another, more tempting option.

When she entered her confinement, I continued unraveling the mystery on my own. I asked subtle questions, which was painfully slow since I was always trying not to startle anyone. To me, it had become clear very soon that whoever was plotting against the Queen was wary of me as well. Rumors about me were circulating, but Chapuys, good and loyal servant that he was, informed me of it and put an end to them.

Still, I now knew for sure I was getting in trouble. The Queen obviously was an obstacle on someone's path to glory. Once they had rid themselves of her, who was to say I wouldn't be next?

Then, by early April, I had found out enough to know I had to act quickly. Fate was my enemy now, for it seemed determined to go on as planned. It was now all but official that my father and his wife had fallen out and that he was enchanted by one of her ladies. The Queen was losing support by the day, and to me it almost seemed she was losing her sanity as well. My dead brothers were haunting her dreams, she told me once.

But I knew that if I didn't act, they would not haunt her for much longer because she would join them. Rumors about her infidelity had already been spread. If I didn't prevent it, she'd face the executioner before the year was out. To make matters worse, I was also certain that her enemies were planning to destroy her utterly. They wanted the royal marriage dissolved and my siblings declared bastards.

To say that I was infuriated after finding out about this would be a tremendous understatement. I was fuming. And I was all the more determined to fight back. I swore to follow two objectives: to save the Queen's life and to punish the culprits.

Punishing the Seymours would be easy. With Anne's testimony, I knew I could build a solid case. However, I had uncovered the identities of two more conspirators, who would not be as easy a catch. They were too powerful, at least for now, so I had to tread carefully. I decided to make them pay in the future and concentrate on the imminent danger to my family.

"I need your help," I told Anne Stanhope.

I had come under the pretext of congratulating her since she had just birthed a healthy daughter named Anne (for herself). Nobody would mind me paying a polite visit to a lady from court. Neither did Anne. On the contrary, she seemed quite relieved to have a conversation that went beyond "does she feed well?".

"Have you come to a conclusion, then? What is the extent of my husband's guilt?"

I sighed. "Greater than both you and I would have guessed, I'm afraid. They mean to destroy the Queen and my siblings with her. I shall never allow their plans to come to fruition."

"Pity," she said dryly and looked at the babe in her arms. "Will you protect us as you've promised?"

"I will. I'll fight for your daughter just like I will for my brother and sister."

"Then I'm yours to command," Anne replied.

"But it might require certain actions that many would consider… questionable. I do know what we must do, but it might get us in grave danger. Especially if you deviated from the plan."

Anne laughed darkly. "Then you'd better be glad I am smart enough to remember what I've been told. I'll do whatever needs to be done."

"Even if it meant lying?"

"I had expected no less."

I knew that if we agreed now, there would be no going back. "Good. Then expect my instructions."

Then I took my leave of her to ponder the options I was left with. There was nothing I could do to deter my father – I had tried. I had tried hard, and if I had tried to persuade him any harder, I'm sure he would have turned against me. He was disappointed with his wife and completely convinced Jane was an angel sent from God. And once he would've heard about Anne's presumed infidelity, he would not shy away from ordering her execution. The mere idea made my blood boil.

Had I not worked hard and diligently to prevent this catastrophe? Had we not been happy as a family, had my father not respected and loved me? Cherished my opinion? What had gone wrong?

I found myself sitting in my apartments before making that last, decisive step, bemoaning my sad fate. After all I had tried, it had still come down to this. My father, whom I'd truly grown to love, was turning into a man I barely recognized. My stepmother would be killed, my siblings disgraced, and my family's enemies would win.

I picked up the lute and began to play a tune I remembered from a game, softly humming some fitting words.

 _"Oh, my father, what have you done? The oath you have taken is all but broken. All is undone, demons have come to destroy this peace we have held for so long. Ally or foe? My Lord only knows. Ally or fallen, my sweet Lord only knows. My dreams do live on, my will is reborn, compelled to forge on what will we become. Can I be forgiven when Anne's cold grave has come? Will they have won or will battle rage on? Oh, my father, what have you done? The oath you have taken is all but broken. All is undone, ash in the sun cast into the darkness the light we had won. Ally or foe? My Lord only knows. Ally or fallen, my sweet Lord only knows."_

When the last sounds had ebbed away, I raised my head in determination. I had a plan. If I succeeded, my victory would be absolute, and if I failed, it would be my doom. There was no going back now. I had to go all in.

"We need to speak, my Lord."

George Boleyn, ever charming and playful, gave me a surprised and cheeky look. He had clearly not expected me outside his chambers, but he didn't seemed set on sending me away either.

"What a pleasant surprise, Your Highness. I'd be delighted to converse with you. But why the serious tone?"

"It concerns your sister's wellbeing. Can we speak in private?"

He grinned. "Oh, but what would people say?"

"Believe me, if you don't talk to me now, this will be the least of your concerns," I replied in a deadly serious tone.

He let me in.

"I have no time to lose, my Lord, so please forgive my impetuosity. The Queen's life is in danger. Her enemies have killed my brother and will stop at nothing to see her removed."

"I'm not sure I understand," George gasped.

"Traitors killed my brother. Now they will see the Queen killed. I am unwilling to stand by idly and let it happen. I came to warn you and to ask your help because only with your support can I prevent the darkness to come."

"The King would kill anyone who dared to lay a hand on my sister."

I nodded. "Which is why her enemies will make my father kill her. They are accusing her of adultery. She'll be condemned for treason and hanged, her marriage annulled and my brother and sister bastardized."

George sat down. "No one could do that. No one would believe it. Everyone knows how much Anne loves the King."

"They also know how much she loves you."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unwilling to follow me to the conclusion, so I decided to push him hard.

"They'll also accuse her of incest with you. They'll destroy her reputation, her entire being. You have no chance, either. Both of you will end on the block. I am telling you this because I wish to save you all and hope you feel the same way," I said somewhat cynically.

"I, um… Princess, you must see how hard it is to believe such accusations… and how would you know?"

For a second, I wanted to tell him. He seemed so lost, so overwhelmed. But he would never understand, how could he?

"Are you willing to risk Anne's life and your own because you distrust me? Do you have any reason to assume I was lying to you?"

"No," he said matter-of-factly.

"Then, for the love of God, you must help me. They won't stop before Anne is dead, and they'll drag down anyone in the process."

"Who are 'they'?"

I sat down before him. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything I know, and what I've planned, but first you must swear to me. Promise to never tell anyone about this, not your wife, not your priest. This is your only chance to get out of this alive, but it'll come at a price."

"If it saves my sister, I shall so swear."

I nodded, taking in a deep breath of air. This was the final moment. After this, things would be set in motion that I would no longer be able to stop.

"Edward and Thomas Seymour are using their sister Jane as a puppet. They alone would not have been powerful or influential enough, but they had support by someone who knew the King's tastes well. Someone who has developed a profound dislike of your sister and who is smart enough to orchestrate her downfall by legal means."

"Cromwell," George said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. And to make matters worse, he's allied himself with the Spanish, who have hated Anne from the very beginning. Ambassador Chapuys is privy to their plotting and even assured the Seymours they would have the Emperor's blessing for poisoning my baby brother. My own cousin ordered his death."

George fumbled for words, but there was no clear sentence coming out his astonished lips.

"I mean to save Anne by deceiving all her enemies and then slowly dissolving their power until I can destroy them. The Seymours, I can easily rid myself off, and I plan to pay them back fully. I'll make them suffer for what they did to my family. Long and painfully."

"Your Highness, you are beginning to frighten me."

"I don't mean to. Only I am so furious that anyone should dare go against my siblings and stepmother, and trifle with the King's emotions. I cannot touch Cromwell or Chapuys yet, but I promise you, one day I'll see them disgraced in the streets or with their head on a block."

"And how would you achieve that?"

"This is why I need you. You have to speak to your sister. I can trust no one else to keep this secret and aid me in this. As I said, they won't stop before Anne is dead."

George rose to his feet. "I won't allow them near her. And if the King imprisons her, I would…"

"Don't fret," I interrupted him. My eyes lit up as I unveiled the most crucial point of my plan to him. "We'll give them what they want. Everything they ever desired. We'll give it to them and make it turn to ashes in their mouths. There is no stepping back for either of us now that you've sworn, my Lord. Both of us are now part of this plot. You and I, we will kill the Queen."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 – In which I killed Anne**

"And you truly believe it is necessary?" George Boleyn still wouldn't buy my words even after I had explained everything to him. "This is beyond dangerous, Your Highness, I don't think I need to tell you. Why risk it all? Even if there was a plot afoot, I can hardly believe anyone would convince the King to kill my sister or disinherit his only legitimate son."

I wanted to believe him so very much. I, too, had hoped that having a son would protect Anne. But my last conversation with the King had sowed the seeds of doubt, for I had seen the angers and passions in his eyes. He didn't always think before it was too late, and that was what my enemies wished to use for their advantage.

"Perhaps. But His Majesty must do as he will, and if he wills it so, matters will proceed without you or I being able to hinder them. I was merely considering our chances, my Lord," I tried to convince him. "If this plan succeeds, we'll all be safe, and more. Our enemies will be crushed. If it fails, we'll be hanged. But, you see, we'll also end up hanged if our enemies prevail, or worse. And what would be the best outcome if they prevailed? Your sister banished, divorced, banned to a nunnery? My siblings legitimate, yet without a mother? Your reputation destroyed, along with that of several other innocent men? Is this the world you want to live in, if the King allows you to live at all?"

"Anne doesn't deserve any of this," George simply replied.

"Then you must risk everything you have in order to save it all. I'm doing the same."

He sighed deeply. "We'll be haunted forever by what we mean to do. So many lies… And making it happen will be no easy feat. How am I to convince my sister?"

"Alas, my Lord, this is why I asked your help. Only you can make her see reason. I trust you absolutely in this and shall pray for your success."

I actually prayed. If there was a god, I wasn't sure he would countenance my plan, but I would certainly need his good will. Basically, all I could do was set things in motion and hope that I was cleverer than my enemies. My trump card would be my imagination and sense of drama. Unlike the Tudor era folk, I had read myriads of books and watched even more TV series and films. I knew enough plots and ploys and twists to draw inspiration from. Today, no one would probably fall for the trap I wanted to set. But the Tudors, having never seen the trick before, might just believe it.

"So you have made up your mind, then," Anne Stanhope concluded.

I nodded. "Have you made sure your brother-in-law was where we need him?"

"Yes, I ensured he'd meet his latest mistress there. Although I should love to ask why, I assume I had better not ask. Less I know, less I can talk."

"My thoughts exactly. I shall leave for Hatfield tomorrow, accompanying the Queen to see my brother and sister. When the time has come, I'll send an urgent message to Lady Fitzroy. It'll also include my firm suggestion she check for your health and that of baby Anne, of which I'm sure she'll do it straight away. She's a sweet and loyal lady. So, once you have spoken to Lady Mary, you'll know the game is afoot."

"And what am I to do, then?"

"Try and tell the King about a heinous plot. He'll probably not receive you, so you'll try to tell Cromwell, if possible in the vicinity of witnesses. If he refuses, too, you'll tell the Duke of Suffolk. He won't refuse you, I'll make sure of it. Tell him you overheard your husband saying that his brother would soon 'have that harlot who calls herself queen' and that they would now 'finish what they had begun with her miscarriage'. You can be creative about the wording."

I expected her to protest, as any sane person would have, but she didn't. Instead, she just nodded. "It wouldn't even be a full lie."

"No, it wouldn't," I agreed. "Do not fret if Suffolk does not give you credence at first, or if, God forbid, he tells and thus angers the King. Even if you are put under house arrest, there is no reason to trouble yourself. You'd soon be set free, I promise you. It is all part of our game."

"And if we win, you can assure me I shall not be dragged down with my traitorous husband?"

I smiled. "You are assuring it yourself by informing the King. After we're through with this, he'll scold himself for not listening to you and see you as angel. He'll compensate you, of that I'm certain."

"Then I'll wait for the Lady Fitzroy," Anne concluded matter-of-factly. "Good luck to you, Your Highness, for whatever you wish to do."

She had no idea.

On a nice, sunny day in May 1536, Queen Anne and I visited my sweet siblings at Hatfield. Seeing them almost broke my heart, for I knew what I would have to do to them. It was for their own good, I tried to tell myself, but it was hard. Anne, too, felt the pain of having to let them go. She was privy to the plot, since she had the greatest part to play, and thus knew she would not see her beloved children in a long time. Watching her fight against tears while cuddling with Elizabeth made me question my plan. But it was too late now.

We left the royal children with Lord Suffolk, who had been forced to accompany us on behalf of the King. I assumed he was there to make sure Anne didn't misbehave in front of them, but now that we just wanted to stroll through the gardens and forests, he couldn't care less about the Queen. He'd never liked her, after all.

So the Queen, I, and several of our ladies went outside. My heart was already beating like a hammer. We'd never had a chance to play through this before. There was only chance for Anne, George and me, and we had to make it count spot on. Improvisation, yay!

"Ho!"

They surrounded us with horses. Masked men armed with swords and daggers, looking every bit as terrifying as I had hoped they would. For a second, I was actually frightened, but then the thrill of seeing my masterpiece come to life took over.

Our ladies panicked. They tried to flee, but were far too slow in their heavy dresses. Within no time, they bandits had encircled us.

"I demand to know what your intentions are," Anne told the men ever calmly. I had to admire her composure.

"That's her! That's the Queen," one of the bandits remarked.

"Take her," another yelled.

The ladies shrieked as two men approached the Queen. One lady almost fainted as Anne pushed her aside to face the men.

"If you find that you have business with me, good sirs, so be it then. But my ladies have nothing to do with this. Let them go."

I watched in awe as she held her head high. I had not seen her this determined and fierce ever since she had lost my second brother. Trembling, my maid Cecily clung to my arm as we both waited for the bandits to discuss Anne's demand.

"Fine," one of them shouted. "Have them leave."

They began to run straight away, but when Cecily and I turned to leave, a rider intercepted us.

"Not you!"

"We cannot allow the Princess to get away. She'd get us in trouble," one of the men told their leader under his breath, but loud enough for us to hear.

I looked at Cecily, nodding into the direction to where the other women had fled. Her face was distorted with fear, but she shook her head nevertheless.

"I cannot leave your side," she whispered.

"Let the Princess go, she has done nothing wrong," Anne interjected haughtily. "Your quarrel lies with me, not with her."

Cecily and I tried to leave again, but now the rider drew his sword and pointed at us.

Several of the bandits appeared to be shocked by this. "Sir Thomas, you can't…"

"Silence!" Their leader seemed angry now that his name had been given away.

Really, I had to take a second and appreciate these actors George Boleyn had found. Where on Earth had he stumbled upon such talented people? And how much had he bribed them with to leave the country afterwards and never return? Had he told them that it was the actual Queen and Princess of England they were threatening, that this could be considered treason? Or did they think it was all just a game? I would never know, as George and I had agreed to share no more information than was necessary. He knew nothing of Anne Stanhope, I nothing of these actors. Still, I had to admire the effort he'd put in it. What a show!

'Sir Thomas' coughed angrily. "She will not get in the way of my plans. The Princess stays. Send her maid away."

A man came to grab Cecily, but she clung to me crying: "No, I won't leave! I won't leave!"

He tried to pull her away. I had not anticipated her fierce loyalty, but it made playing my role so much easier.

"Stop it, please! I beg you, for the love of God, show mercy," I pleaded with the men.

Anne, too, was shouting now. She grabbed the man by his arm, but he shook her off. "Leave her be! I am the Queen of England, I command you to!"

"Silence, harlot! You are no longer giving orders to anyone," 'Sir Thomas' shouted back. "Lads, grab the wench and take her. The pyre's been lit. We can't wait anymore."

Furious, Anne swirled around and threw a stone from the ground at 'Sir Thomas'. Obviously, George hadn't told him about that part, because he seemed every bit as surprised as he was supposed to appear. The rock hit him hard, almost knocking him off his horse. His men began to shout and yell and storm towards Anne.

"Run," she ordered me and Cecily.

I looked at her one last time, very briefly, and I could see she had finally accepted what would come next. We wouldn't see each other in a long time.

Then I ran. I grabbed Cecily's arm and ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I stumbled and staggered, always hastily turning around to see if we were still being followed. Of course we weren't, but it felt so real. Cecily, too, was panting as if she were drawing her last breath. She was also still crying. We heard Anne scream once more, loudly and painfully, before we eloped into the woods. I don't remember how we made it back to Hatfield, but suddenly the clearing of the gardens appeared before us.

Lord Suffolk had apparently been informed, for he had mustered a guard on horseback and was riding straight towards us.

"My lord, my lord," Cecily cried.

Suffolk dismounted his horse as he drew closer, just in time for me to dramatically stumble and fall into his hands. By now, I was crying too, but mostly from exhausting.

"Your Highness! What has happened?"

"The Queen! It's the Queen," I sobbed into his arms. "Uncle Charles, they've taken the Queen! Men with swords!"

"They were going to hurt the Princess, too," Cecily added distressed before one of the guards came to hold her. "Please, the Queen… they've taken her…"

"Who? What happened? Mary, you must tell me," Suffolk said hastily, even forgetting to address me formally.

I sobbed once more as I looked into his face. "Men, Uncle Charles. One of them was called Sir Thomas. He wanted to take the Queen… and he said something about a pyre. Please, he can't mean it, can he? Uncle Charles… the Queen…"

Then I fainted. Not truly, of course, but I simply dropped into his arms assuming he would catch me. Fortunately, he did. The hustle around me grew louder. Shouts and commands danced around me. I allowed it all to wash over me, simply pretending to be blacked out, and prayed that Anne and the actors had long since left the woods. My work was done. I could only hope.

Later that day, I found myself lying in a bed at Hatfield. They'd brought me a soup and some ale, but I refused it. I asked the servants to tell me about the Queen, yet they only exchanged dark glances. Even when I asked more thoroughly, there was no answer. I had expected that, so I asked for Cecily to be brought to me. She was an image of tears.

"Oh Your Highness, Your Highness," she sobbed as she knelt beside my bed. "I am so happy that you are alive and well. When you fell… I was so worried."

Gently, I patted her head and smiled weakly. "Oh, sweet Cecily, you are too kind. You should not have stayed with me. It was so dangerous."

"I couldn't have left you alone, my Princess," she insisted. "A maid without her mistress has no honor. And to think what they could have done to you…"

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Cecily, what happened to the Queen? Has the Duke of Suffolk found her?"

She refused to look me in the eye, so I touched her chin to raise it.

"Cecily?"

"Your Highness, I… I am not allowed to speak of it, not while you're so weak…"

I raised an eyebrow. "On whose command?"

"My Lord Suffolk's."

"Well, and I command you to tell me. I'm the King's daughter and your mistress. Will you refuse me?"

She seemed heart-broken and absolutely terrified. For a second, I regretted putting her through this, but what she had experienced, she'd soon tell anyone who'd listen. And yes, there would be many who would listen.

"Your Highness, they… they found a pyre. It was… burned… down. The men were gone."

I tried to appear shocked. "And the Queen?"

Cecily began to cry again and shook her head. I asked no more questions that day, but simply held her as she cried.

Only a few days later, word was out in the countryside and soon everyone in England knew: the prophecy had come true. A queen of England had been burned at the stake, but not the way they had expected it. She hadn't been punished for her crimes; she had been brutally killed by ruthless men. She had been murdered.

Oh, I couldn't wait to return to court and see the King's face.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 – In which I changed Henry's heart**

Coming into the Tudor world as an outsider, there were many people I had misjudged due to my limited knowledge. Catherine of Aragon, for example, had been nothing but a scorned, bitter ex-wife in my mind until I had met her. Now, I not only saw her undying devotion to her daughter, but also the sharp political mind Henry had far too often suppressed in the last years of their marriage. Queen Anne, too, had appeared to me a haughty and mean woman, but when I had seen her fight the bandits for me, I realized she too possessed greatness to her character that I had yet to achieve.

And then, just when you think there is nothing left to surprise you, there comes Henry. The fat, wife-murdering tyrant of legend had surprised me once or twice before, but never so much as when I returned to court after the incident at Hatfield. I had anticipated two possible reactions. Either, my father would be livid that anyone would have dared to even touch his Queen, let alone kill her, because she had been his. He never took kindly to anyone presumptuous enough to take what was rightfully his. The other option I had foreseen that he was already seriously out of love enough to not care about Anne anymore, or even rejoice at the thought of being free to marry Jane.

Neither of those scenarios played out as I arrived at Hampton Court.

"Your Highness, praise be to our Lord to send you here unharmed," Anthony Knivert, one of the King's closest friends, received me as I approached the royal apartments. "We heard such disturbing rumors from Hatfield about you and the Queen."

"All true, I'm afraid," I regretted to reply. "Please, you must let me pass, Sir Anthony. I need to speak to His Majesty."

"That will not be possible, I'm afraid," Cromwell chimed in as I came closer to the doors. "His Majesty will not receive any visitors."

I stopped and scrutinized Cromwell's face. Was this some trick of his?

"What do you mean, Master Cromwell," I asked sternly, putting emphasis on the word 'master'.

"Ever since we received word from Hatfield, His Majesty has withdrawn from court. He will not allow any of his ministers or councilors or even grooms to enter. For two days now, no one has seen the King. Most of his food returns uneaten," Cromwell reported just as sternly.

"He wouldn't even allow his jester, Will Somers, in," Knivert added.

That clearly wasn't what I had expected. It seemed even worse than the depression historical Henry had fallen into after Jane's death. Well, trust Henry to always surprise you!

"Surely, His Majesty will speak with me, seeing I am not only his daughter, but can also relate more precise information about what has transpired."

As I made an attempt to reach the doors, my father's guards stepped in my way. Cromwell was quick to step beside me again.

"His Majesty gave order not to disturb him," he insisted.

"Perhaps to you," I retorted. "His Majesty is clearly under duress, an ailment to which you cannot provide a remedy, Master Cromwell. This matter requires gentleness. And for all the defects of my inferior sex, gentleness is something I as a woman do possess. My words will sooth the King's heart, have no doubt of it. Now, let me pass."

The guards immediately obeyed, though I don't know why. I wouldn't wait to marvel at their reaction. Instead, I just left behind a baffled Cromwell and entered the murky, stifling darkness that was King Henry's soul.

"Who comes hither?" I heard his hoarse voice. "Leave me alone! I command you to!"

"Father? Father, it is I, Mary."

From behind a curtain, I could see movement, and heard cups falling over. A staggering creature stumbled towards me.

"Mary? Mary?" It didn't sound like him at all. "Oh, God, my Mary. My pearl. You're here."

I didn't even realize what hit me in the darkness as he came towards me and pulled me in a hug. He smelled of ale and days passed by without a sponge, but it mattered little to me. The way his shaking hands clutched to my body told me there were things of graver importance than his olfactory state.

"Mary… Lord, I thought I had lost you, too."

"I'm here, papa," I whispered back.

"But she's gone. Isn't she? Oh God, say it is not so."

"I… I'm sorry, papa."

He sobbed for a second, then let go off me. I couldn't see his face in the twilight, but I heard the tremor in his voice.

"I let her die, Mary. I looked away when others spoke ill of her, and now she's dead. She's dead and gone and it's all my fault. God. God! How am I to tell Edward… and Elizabeth? They are so young. It's my fault, all my fault."

His legs were shaking. Suddenly, he somehow flagged and dropped into a nearby armchair, accompanied by another sob. I was absolutely not able to cope.

"But how could I have known? Oh my sweet, tell me. Please, say it is not so. That it wasn't all my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, papa," I tried to assure him as I knelt before him and took his hands in mine. "You couldn't have known this would happen."

"Oh, but I did, I did," he replied darkly. "I had all the information at hand, but I was too blind to see it."

I frowned. "I don't understand."

"Seymour's wife came to me, but I wouldn't hear her, and when she told your uncle, I waved it away. She spoke out against her own husband, but I was deaf to her plea. And now God has punished me. He took my wife when really he should have taken me. It was my fault. My fault. And now… Anne… oh God."

I squeezed his hand trying to look for words. This was not what I had anticipated.

"Why… why wouldn't you allow your fool Somers in here? He couldn't brighten you up."

"Pah," he replied laughing sarcastically. "There is not enough space in here for two fools, and I am twice as big a fool as he is. Look at what I had, Mary. I had everything. Everything. Everything a prince could ever want. And I threw it away… for what? Nothing. Nothing."

Well, even though I had not seen this coming, I wouldn't let the chance pass.

"Yes, father. You've been the most deceived."

He looked for my eyes and nodded slowly. "Yes, I have."

"Someone misled you to look away when your wife was in danger. It wasn't your fault. You were tricked."

"Yes," he agreed more firmly. "Damn them. All their heads should rot on spikes for what they've done to my sweet Anne."

"Then punish them," I suggested. "Go out and have the matter investigated. Show them that no one can trifle with Henry VIII."

For a moment, I thought he would agree, storm out and bash in some heads. But then, he sobbed once more and slumped down.

"I can't," he whimpered in a most unkingly way. "How can I go out there and look in their faces? They're staring at me and whispering behind my back. They'll call me the foolish king who threw his perfect wife away for a pale wench. They'll laugh about me, Mary! They shouldn't speak like that about their King."

"No, they shouldn't," I agreed.

"Oh, but how should they not, for they would be right! It was my fault, my fault entirely!"

I couldn't help but rise and put my arms around him. Caressing your crying father was distressing enough, but when said father was a king, no less a renowned wife-murderer, the matter became even weirder.

And then, I had an idea.

"Would you want me to go out there for you?"

"What do you mean," he asked between two sobs.

"You are right, they should not look at you and you need not look at them. I can order Cromwell and your servants to investigate the matter. Trust me, father, I'll make sure they go right to the bottom of it. They'll find everyone involved in this, they'll speak to Lady Seymour, and they'll find out who was privy to this heinous plot. And then, I swear to you, I'll show them Tudor justice."

Slowly, ever so slowly, he stretched out his hand and touched my face. "My girl… my lovely pearl, would you do this for me?"

"I would, but not just for you. I'd do it for Elizabeth and Edward… and for the Queen," I said dramatically. "She jeopardized everything to make sure I escaped. She gave up her life to save mine. No less could I do for her than to procure justice. Justice for the Queen."

Henry nodded. "Justice for the Queen," he repeated quietly.

"I had better go, then. I'll send Somers in, if you don't mind. It would ease my mind to know someone was with you, papa. Can you do that for me? Can you speak with Somers and perhaps eat something?"

He simply continued nodding. I bent over to kiss his forehead, whispered some more promises in his ear and then left. Outside, in the garish light, an impressive crowd had gathered to see what news I brought from their King. First among them were Cromwell, my uncle Brandon, and the Duke of Norfolk. It took me a moment to calm them all down.

"Lords and ladies, the King is unwell and needs rest. Cromwell, make sure a light meal is prepared. The fool Somers is to serve it and stay with His Majesty so long as he wishes."

Cromwell nodded. Apparently, he wanted to leave, but I stopped him.

"I haven't finished, Master Cromwell. His Majesty is aware of the pressing matters the realm will face during his absence, most important of all the matter of his beloved wife's murder. He has thus decreed that I shall oversee these matters during his seclusion."

The mumbling got louder. Many were surprised, most of all the Duke of Norfolk. "He named you regent?"

"You are well within your rights to question me, Your Grace. I can only encourage you to ask the King himself, that is, if he will receive you," I all but spat back.

Now, the mumbling had grown into a hustle. It took more than a minute of loud discussions before Brandon was heard.

"I am yours to command, my Princess," he assured me.

"As am I," Cromwell was now quick to add. "I am the King's loyal servant."

"Yes, you are, and as such, I shall require all your talents. I hereby command you to investigate the murder of Queen Anne. Question everyone you see fit. The King informed me that Sir Edward Seymour's wife might share information on the matter, so you might want to question her. Although, perhaps you had better start with me, as I was present during England's darkest hour, and so was my maid Cecily and several other ladies. The Duke of Suffolk might also know matters of importance, though I trust you would figure that out yourself, Master Cromwell."

In the hustle, nobody realized how pale Cromwell had become – nobody but me.

Only an hour later, I sat opposite him answering all his meticulous questions. I made sure not to leave out a single of my carefully fabricated details, though I also trusted Cecily and the others to support my version. I even made sure to hesitate at times, to contradict and correct myself, and to seem more desperate as we progressed. In modern times, I might not have fooled a trained FBI investigator, but Cromwell was none such. He was good, I grant him that, but I had seen the Mentalist, Psych and Lie to me. I had a decent idea how to fool someone into believing what you wanted them to believe. And to think one of my flatmates once told me that no good would ever come from my Netflix marathons!

"Thank you, Your Highness, for your support. Forgive me if these questions inconvenienced you," Cromwell finally finished.

"There is nothing to forgive so long as you find the Queen's murderers," I assured him. "I want regular reports on your findings, at least twice a day. If you seek, but do not find me, assume that I am with His Majesty. He wants to be kept informed, and I am inclined to bow to my King's wishes."

"Of course, we all are," Cromwell added.

"I had expected no less, Master Cromwell. Which is why I rely on your diligence and aptitude to find out everything there is. Do not desist until you reach the bottom of the pit, even if you uncover people dear to the King's heart to be involved in this. Especially not if you discover people dear to his heart! This is the darkest, most shameful affair in the royal history of England, Master Cromwell, and I expect you to treat it as such."

He nodded slowly and rose. "Of course."

I, too, rose and gave him an ice-cold look. "Then I can only hope your reports will leave me satisfied, Master Cromwell. For if they do not, naturally I must assume you are hiding something from the King, in which case I would hold you responsible for the entire matter. Do you understand?"

Cromwell looked at me in shock and disdain. His eyes clearly said "she can't do this, who does she think she is?", but after a moment, his brain must have reminded him "she's regent for now, she's the only one who can speak to the King". Then, he put on a sour smile and bowed before me.

"I shall not disappoint you, my Lady Regent."

And he didn't.

This, of course, was according to my plan. Knowing Cromwell well enough to see that he left a sinking ship just like a rat, I had known he would sever his ties with the Seymours faster than anyone could see. He would gather all the evidence against them (of which I had planted enough) and fabricate even more to make sure no suspicion was attached to him. He probably assumed I disliked him and wanted to see him fall, but didn't know how deeply he had been involved in the murder of my brother. For the time being, I would grant him this illusion.

Instead of bringing him down, I would first focus on other pressing matters. So I triumphantly entered the apartments into which Anne Stanhope had been relocated after her interrogation and the subsequent arrest of her husband and brother-in-law. Ironically, those were the very same rooms that had briefly housed my aunt Margaret before my father had angrily thrown her out. When I entered announced by an usher, Anne was just putting her namesake baby into a crib. Then she turned around, her usually stern face trembling with emotions. Clearly, these past days had asked much of her.

Relief of seeing my plans come to fruition, of seeing her alive and unharmed, washed over me. I simply pressed forwards and, in an unexpected show of emotions, hugged her. Anne answered the embrace for a moment.

"It is good to see you, Your Highness," she then said quietly so as not to wake her baby. "Or should I call you Lady Regent?"

I smiled at her sassiness. "Princess Mary is more than enough. I trust you were well taken care of?"

"Well, not at first, but you had warned me to expect far worse, so I cannot complain. Now, however, seeing that my husband resides in the Tower while I reside in these sumptuous apartments, I believe more than ever that I was right to put my trust in you."

"Yes, you were. For yourself and the sake of your child," I said, looking into the crib studying the sweet sleeping features of baby Anne. "And your loyalty will reap you more rewards still. His Majesty, though in seclusion, is well aware of how much you risked helping him, and is willing to repay you. He left it to me to flesh out the details."

"How generous," Anne remarked grinning. "It would appear we will all get our just desserts in the end. My in-laws a block, you absolute power… then, please end my curiosity, what will I receive?"

Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded terribly haughty. But Anne, I knew, was just playing along. This was her playful, somewhat cynical tone.

"I wanted to hear your opinion on the matter, but I thought that 'Countess of Hertford' had a nice ring to it," I suggested.

Anne raised an eyebrow. "Countess? In my own right?"

"And to pass on your offspring," I added, looking at her baby. "I promised you no less."

She nodded, her face lighting up at the prospect of being one of the highest ranking noblewomen in the country. She couldn't have known that in real life, she would have also been Countess of Hertford, albeit not in her own right. In this life, all she had, she owed to me, and I was damn glad that I had made her mine early on. With her wits and ambition, she might have just been my undoing had she not worked with me.

"But tell me, I must know," she suddenly interrupted my thoughts. "The Queen… what did happen to her? Cromwell wanted to know everything about my brother-in-law and his journey to the countryside, and I told him all we spoke about… but you and I, we know it hasn't been him who abducted the Queen. He will pay for it because what he had planned would have been far worse, but my mind cannot help but wonder what truly happened to the Queen."

I looked her in the eyes, trying to make sure she wouldn't betray me. Then, very quietly, I pulled her closer.

"I can understand your curiosity, and much as I would like to satisfy it, I must insist that I cannot. Not yet. The Queen still has enemies within these walls, enemies who would gladly tear you and I down if they heard a word we spoke. Please trust me that within time, all shall be well again. Just give me time."

Anne nodded. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not right now, you have done more than enough. You can testify again in the court case. Then you are free to go. I will not keep you here for… the inevitable."

"I'll stay anyway. I have to watch it."

I shook my head. "No, please, don't punish yourself. You've done the right thing, even though he was your husband. You need not come and watch him die."

"Oh, but I must. One day, my daughter will ask about her father, and I wouldn't want to admit to her that I was too cowardly to watch his end. It is I who brought him there. His plans might have earned him the block, but it is I who placed his head there. I must see it with my own eyes."

I sighed. "If you so wish. Would you mind me accompanying you?"

Anne didn't mind. So I promised to be there when the time would come, and then I left her to take care of her sleeping daughter. Leaving the two of them, I couldn't help but think of my own possible family, of Philip and the wedding, all of which had somehow withdrawn into a distant future. With all this mess, how was I to wed before the year was over? I had no mind for happiness right now, only for revenge and sorrow. So instead of dwelling too long on my thoughts of Philip, I returned to my father's side.

I found him half-asleep on a sofa. He was drunk again, but some empty plates on a tray told me he had also eaten something at least. From the shadows, his fool emerged.

"All will be gone for him, some day. A green thought in a green shade," he said.

"Go away, fool," I replied impatiently. "I shall be by His Majesty's side now. Speak no more to me."

He seemed taken aback, but complied. Truth be told: I simply had no more willpower left after this day to deal with his jests. I just wanted to hug my father and sleep.

"Mary?"

"Yes, I'm back, papa. I set it all in motion. Cromwell will find the culprits."

"What about the Seymours?"

"They're being taken to the Tower, Sir Edward and Sir Thomas. Sir Edward's wife, I have offered repayment for her service, as you asked me to. As for the Lady Jane… I've put her under house arrest."

His eyes lit up furiously. "I want her burned, that witch!"

"Father, please, calm down," I urged him, sitting down and placing his head in my lap. Gently, I began to stroke his hair. "I am not yet convinced of the extent of Lady Jane's guilt. Would you allow me to speak to her in private? I would hate for people to think you unjustly condemned a woman who was just misled by her brothers, if that be the case."

"Fine," he mumbled. "Will you sing a song for me, Mary? Your voice is… right now, it's the milk of human kindness for me."

I hesitated first, but then the weak sadness in his tone won me over. He was my father, after all, and I had put him in this wretched state.

"If it pleases my King," I agreed and began to hum a sweet tune I had also had also sung to Elizabeth once. I continued to caress his hair as I sang; slowly realizing he was falling asleep. I sung and sung until I ran out of words, thinking of how to continue in this mess I had created, and of how to best punish my enemies while reward my true friends. I had begun, but there was so much more yet to come.

And then, I looked down at my father's painful sleeping face, thinking of this nightmare I had created for him. I had wanted to punish him, too, it was true, but not like this. I had expected none of this all-consuming sadness, and it pained me to see him like this. This whole messy situation… it reminded me of a song. One more, I would sing, I told myself, and so I did.

"Now, you're staring at the bottom of your glass, hoping one day you'll make a dream last, for dreams come slow and they go so fast. And you see her when you close your eyes; maybe one day you'll understand why everything you touch surely dies. But you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow, only know you love her when you let her go. Only know you've been high when you're feeling low, only hate the road when you're missing home, only know you love her when you let her go. You're staring at the ceiling in the dark, same old empty feeling in your heart cause love comes slow and it goes so fast. Well, you see her when you fall asleep, but never to touch, no never to keep – cause you loved her too much and you dived too deep. But you only need the light when it's burning low, only miss the sun when it starts to snow, only know you love her when you let her go. Only know you've been high when you're feeling low, only hate the road when you're missing home, only know you love her when you let her go… and you let her go."

As my words ebbed away, I heard a sound from Henry, and feared that I had woken him up. But looking closer, I realized he was still dreaming, yet one painful crystal clear tear was rolling down his cheek.

This was Henry VIII, the heartless, fat wife-murdering maniac.

Something had changed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 – In which my enemies suffered**

I wasn't allowed to sit and watch the Seymour brothers' trial – I was a woman, after all, and women should not trifle with legal matters. It didn't matter much, however, since I had subtly told all the important members of the jury what I expected from them. I hadn't been precise in my wording, but they could not have mistaken my intents. I would see the Seymours die for what they did to my family.

Now, it was left for me to decide whether a third Seymour would join her brothers on the block. So while the great and mighty noble men of this country debated Edward and Thomas' fate, I made my way to the chambers in which their sister Jane was held.

"Oh, Your Highness," she whispered in surprise as I entered. Given her deranged looks, she had not received any visitors in days, perhaps weeks. In awe, she sank to her knees. "Have you come to save me? Oh please, I beg you, kind Princess, lift my out of my misery. No one will tell me anything. Why am I here?"

I sat down on a chair, my eyes fixed on her, trying to display no emotion. For a while, I said nothing, not even told her to get to her feet again.

"Tell me, Mistress Seymour, do you remember the last time we spoke in private? After we returned from the Netherlands?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"I remember promising you to look for a Dutch husband that you could be happy with, for I had never seen you so happy as you were at Lady Mary's court. I promised you that, didn't I?"

"Yes," she returned in a hushed voice.

"And what did you do? Tell me, Mistress Jane, what have you done? Instead of putting your trust in me, you whored yourself to my father like a shady tavern wench. You threw yourself at a married man in the hopes of replacing his lawfully wedded wife. And now that wife is dead."

Jane shook her head fiercely. "No!"

"No?," I asked sarcastically. "Pray enlighten me then, which part of my words is wrong? Were you not found on the King's lap like a common whore? Did you not listen to your brothers when they told you that you would be queen? Or would you tell me the Queen is not dead, after all? Oh, I beg you, tell me that, and I am sure the King will forgive all your trespasses against him, for his heart broke to a million pieces the day his beloved wife was taken from him."

There was no answer. Jane stared at me blankly.

"I wanted to secure a good life for you, Jane. A happy life. And how did you repay me?"

"Your Highness, I swear to you, I knew nothing of the Queen. I only heard she was taken… and… and… burned, and then the men came and put me here. Tell me, where are my brothers?"

"In the Tower, awaiting their execution."

Jane sobbed in sheer panic. "No!"

"Yes," I replied coldly. "They orchestrated the Queen's downfall. They would have also dragged me down with her if they could, along with my sweet brother and sister, all so that you and your whelps could rule this country. But I can assure you, Mistress Jane, they will pay the price. They will pay for murdering the Queen and my unborn brother."

"What?," she sobbed, seeming genuinely surprised.

"Don't tell me you didn't know. When she found you whoring on my father's lap, your brothers made sure she was served poisoned wine. They killed my brother in her womb while you seduced my father. And here I am and cannot help but wonder… How could you? Have you no shame?"

"No," Jane cried, stumbling towards me and falling on the ground before my feet. "Please, no, Your Highness, no! Edward would never do such things, nor would Thomas! Nor would I! I love the King and I love you!"

"But you never held any love for the Queen," I added. "Your brothers sought to replace her with you. They wouldn't have stopped at anything. Queen Anne giving the King his long awaited spare would've only complicated things. Thus, they cold-bloodedly murdered him. My brother, a prince of England! There is a jury currently convened discussing the penalty for such crimes, so I need none of your denials. I have come here for one thing only, Mistress Jane. I will hear it from your own mouth. Did you aid in killing my brother?"

Her eyes wide open, Jane stared at me like a pitiful child. Even though I had never wished ill upon her, I felt like I would strangle her with my own hands if she said yes now.

"No."

"And did you know what your brothers were planning? Did you know they poisoned the Queen?"

"No!"

"But you knew they wanted you to wear the crown. They promised you, didn't they?"

Jane hesitated. "Yes."

"And you didn't ask how they would achieve such a miracle?"

"I… Your Highness must forgive me, I was so enchanted… I mean, Queen Anne did the same to your saintly mother, I only wanted to set matters right. I…"

She stopped, but I wouldn't desist. Not now. "Go on, Mistress Jane."

"I assumed that she… that the Queen would retire to a nunnery, just as your mother was forced to. Or that her marriage would be annulled."

"Your brothers had fabricated evidence of her adultery. They would have accused her of the most unspeakable crimes to destroy not just her life, but her honor as well. They wanted my father to have his own true wife beheaded. Tell me you didn't know of this plot."

Jane swallowed hard. "I… I would have never guessed…"

"No, but you wouldn't have spoken for her, either, would you? You would have stepped into her shoes the moment her head was cut off."

It wasn't a question. I KNEW historical Jane had done just that, and now I saw why. Denial. She was not as stupid as I had imagined her to be, but she had pushed away all the sad truths. She would have convinced herself of Anne's guilt and that all of this was necessary. She had not conceived Anne's downfall, but she wouldn't have hesitated to use it for herself.

"Well, thank you for your honesty."

"What is to happen with me? Please, Your Highness, you know of my innocence!"

I rose, looking at her sternly. "Innocence? After all that has happened, who of us is truly innocent," I asked. "But yes, I know you had no mind to kill my brother or stepmother, but I also know you would have not stopped it, had you known. You would have watched and let it happen. Thus, I shall plead your case before the King and ask him to spare your life. You will be relocated to the Tower, where you will stay until your brothers have paid their dues. As you stood by and watched my brother die, you'll now do the same for them."

"No," Jane sobbed and touched my dress. "I beg you, Your Highness, no! Do not make me!"

"You will watch," I hissed. "You will stand there and watch them die, and you will remember it until the day that you die. That is the price you must pay, Mistress Jane, and I shall make sure you pay fully. You dabbled in the lives of the Tudor family, and now you'll pay the Tudor price. Iron and blood, Mistress Jane. Iron and blood."

Truth be told, it was overly dramatic, but that was how I felt these days. I had shed my humanity to become an angel of retribution. Revenge was a dish best served cold, as the enemies of my family were about to find out. They Seymours were only a start.

I went to the Tower to stand by Anne's side as I had promised. It was an unusually cold day in July 1536, heavy rainclouds barring the sun from gracing this dark scene. I heard the shouts of people gathered.

"Traitor!"

I looked at my uncle Charles, who would act as Henry's substitute here, for the King had yet to leave his seclusion. He had allowed some people in by now, such as Charles and Cromwell and a few others, but he still relied on my guidance and council.

"Are you sure you wish to be here, my Princess," he whispered to me.

"I need to see this. For all that happened at Hatfield. For my brother and sister. And for the Lady Anne, who sacrificed everything to bring about justice," I replied, looking at Anne Stanhope.

The Duke of Suffolk nodded. He, like many others, had begun to seriously admire Anne's strength and bravery. It didn't seem odd to them that I, the kind-hearted princess, was here to comfort here. Nobody suspected our friendship, much less that we were the actual masterminds behind this execution. We had chosen to put on masks of sweetness and strength. Now, we would have to wear them until the bitter end.

I took Anne's hand into mine. "I'll make this up to you, one day."

"You already have," she assured me as she watched her husband climb the stairs. Her eyes were fixed on him. "I try to tell myself I never loved him anyway, but I fear it's a falsehood."

"I can still grant him mercy. Exile him," I offered, even though in my heart I knew I was unwilling to. Seeing Anne's distress just made me weak.

"No. He has brought this on himself. He flew high like Icarus, but burned his wings. For what he has done, only God can show mercy."

There was nothing more to say. We watched in stunned silence as Edward spoke his last words. I felt not an inch of remorse. Anne was right; it was he who had brought himself here, not my beautifully fabricated lies. I had just facilitated his fate. He would have ended up on the block anyway, just like his brother, who climbed the scaffold after him, his face red with tears. I pitied none of them. They had killed my brother. They would have killed Anne had I not acted first. They would have molested my sister Elizabeth. They would have behaved like kings when they were no more than mean schemers. There was no reason to pity their downfall. In modern times, I might have opposed death penalty, but this was different. This was war, a case of eat or be eaten. And I had no intention of being eaten. I was an English princess, daughter of lions. Lions devour their prey whole.

Later that day, when all of London was still speaking of the dead traitors, I retreated back to court to receive one of my oldest friends.

"My Princess, I am distressed to hear you had to witness this horrible event today," Eustace Chapuys told me.

"Ah, do not trouble yourself for me, Your Excellency. I have my mother's heart, the heart of a warrior. I cannot be easily worn out. But I must thank you for your consideration. You are, and have always been, my truest friend in all this world."

Chapuys smiled gently, clutching to his cane.

"I do not think you could even fathom how much pain it would cause me to lose you. To think I would have to go through all this again, seeing you ascend the stairs, the wailing crowd… it shudders me to imagine it."

"My Princess, you must not speak of such matters," Chapuys tried to calm me down.

"Oh, but I do," I suddenly sad in a much darker tone. "For that is what would happen if the King knew of your involvement in the plot. That is, if he granted you the mercy of an axe instead of the boiling in hot oil reserved for poisoners."

"Your Highness," he exclaimed in shock.

"You… you killed my brother. Do not deny it, for I know everything. You knew what the Seymours were planning, and instead of prohibiting their treasonous acts, you procured the Emperor's approval. You stood by idly and watched an anointed queen of England die and yet you call yourself a good Christian. Tell me, Excellency, was it Christ's will that a child be put to death before he could even draw his first breath? Was it Jesus who absolved you for the cruel murder of a loving mother?"

He gestured at me, trying to make me stop. "Your Highness, please, you misunderstand…"

"Oh, but I understand all too well, Your Excellency. I understand that this is nothing to do with religion. No, it has never been about religion, for if it had, you could have never condoned the murder of innocents. Not even guilty men can be justly killed without a proper trial by king and country, yet you and your disgusting friends took on the role of God and assumed divine authority to decide who lives and who dies. This is not religious at all, Excellency. This is politics."

"My Princess, it must be God's will, for how else is this country ever to return to obedience? Now, the King is freed from the poison of the Harlot. He can return to his true, lawful wife and restore you as his successor, as is the Lord's will."

"The Emperor's will, you mean," I spat. "For my mother certainly would never agree to it, nor would the King. Don't you dare call yourself an emissary of God, for you are not. You are the Emperor's creature, and my dear cousin is very much mistaken if he thinks he decides who sits the English throne. This is Tudor England, and the crown belongs to my Father and him alone."

"You cannot mean it," Chapuys all but whispered.

"I do. I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I see you now for who you really are: a lying serpent like the one who tempted Adam and Eve. I know now you were never a friend of mine, only a servant to the Emperor, and I thank you for this lesson. Now, you might wonder why I am telling you this, instead of telling my royal father," I said, making a dramatic pause. "I am telling you this because you need to know that I know. You need to understand that I could destroy you with the blink of an eye, fully and utterly. I want you to comprehend that you are no longer the Emperor's servant. You are mine to command. I only allow you to live so long as you are of use for me, and I will have you pay me back every pain you have caused my family. From now on, you're mine, Excellency. You'll write no letter to the Emperor without my consent. You'll inform me about everything you know. And trust me, you will not want to cross me, for if you do, I'll tell the King a dark story about the powers behind the Seymours, and I will not plead with him for mercy. If you act against me, I'll see you boil."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, to drive things home, I added coldly:

"And do not presume to get out of this by asking the Emperor for your dismissal. You will stay here and pay me back, do not doubt it. If I ever find you trying to leave England, for whatever reason, I swear to you you'll never even reach the shores. I'd see to it myself."

Chapuys stared at me in disbelief.

"Do you understand?"

He didn't respond. I put on a dark smile.

"You might be wondering what has gotten into me, for you have always mistaken me to be sweet and pliable. So allow me to explain this to you in the simplest of ways: what has happened to me? You. You and the Seymours and the Emperor and all the other loathsome traitors who threatened my family because of politics. Yes, politics happened to me, politics created and shaped me, and now you will have to come to terms with the outcome. I bid you a good day, Excellency."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24 – In which I saw the Queen again**

To say that I enjoyed taking on the role of the avenging angel would not quite meet with the facts. Yes, my overly dramatic monologues gave me a sort of guilty, sadistic pleasure. Anger mixed with righteousness is always a powerful drug; I can assure you of that. But it also exhausted me. Being my father's substitute meant a lot more work and also danger than I had anticipated, only encouraging me more in my firm belief that I would never be queen. Being a shadow councilor, that was much more to my liking.

Alas, not this time. I had to watch the Seymour brothers die. I had to intimidate Chapuys into submission. And yet, I wasn't finished. Jane Seymour still lodged in the Tower when my father finally escaped the darkness of his apartments around early September. I had convinced him to spare her life, but both of us were unsure what to do with her next. Send her to a nunnery? Wouldn't that make my mother's treatment seem akin to hers, even though Jane had condoned murder while my mother had been a true and loyal subject even in her most defiant days? Or could we send her away to the Netherlands? But wouldn't brokering a foreign marriage for her seem like a reward? It was difficult.

And besides, there was still the matter of Cromwell. The King was very pleased with his diligent investigation, so he was as highly praised as before. And I, despite all the wrongs he had done my family, still couldn't fully bring myself to destroy him. The truth was – he really was efficient. In a time when ruthless men like the Seymours only made politics for their own benefit, Cromwell really set himself apart. True, he had tried to destroy the Queen, and most likely also consented to my brother's murder, but he had not done so for personal gain. He had done what he thought was best for England, and for the reformation. While I couldn't condone his acts, to me his motives set him far above the likes of Thomas Seymour.

For that reason, and because he was almost untouchable in the eyes of the King right now, I decided to wait a little longer. Perhaps he, just like my father, would come to see that the Queen's destruction had been a mistake. Perhaps I could make him repent and force him into my service just as I had done with Chapuys, so that he might still be useful for England. Perhaps.

In any case, my head was buzzing like a beehive with questions and ideas. There was so much still to do and decide, and so few people I could honestly talk to. Anne Stanhope was one, but we had agreed to separate again after her elevation to Countess. We didn't want court to realize just how closely we worked together, so she and her baby would go to her new estates until Christmastide. That, of course, left me with only one other co-conspirator.

Convincing my father to let me leave court wasn't easy. Ever since the Queen's death, he had become overly protective of his family. He had the guards at Hatfield doubled and equipped with nasty looking war hounds to scan the outskirts of the gardens. He had also assigned a personal guard of four well-trained men to me, and insisted I dine with him almost every night. An overreaction, no doubt, but also quite understandable. There were days when I pitied him so much I wanted to blurt out the truth.

Not yet, I told myself. Not yet.

"I have a mind to leave court for a few days, if it pleases Your Majesty," I thus told him instead.

"It is 'Father', Mary, and no, it does not."

"You allowed me to leave for Hatfield a week ago."

He downed his cup and looked me straight in the eyes. "Yes, sweetheart, but only for the comfort of Edward and Elizabeth. I cannot risk you going about elsewhere."

"I know, and I am forever grateful for your kind and loving attention, Father. But it is Edward and Elizabeth I worry about. They do not truly understand what happened to their mother, but they are… unhappy. I can feel it. And I just thought that perhaps I could convince their favorite uncle to return, if not to court, then at least to Hatfield."

I was of course referring to George Boleyn, who had promptly withdrawn from court after the sorry news of Anne's demise had spread. My father had petitioned him twice to return, but somehow, George must have found a way to deny without angering the King. I assumed my father just couldn't be angry with a man who reminded him so much of his beloved wife.

"The viscount has not taken warmly to my previous invitations," Henry remarked bitterly.

"Which is why I would go there myself. Surely, he cannot deny the pleas of a woman begging for her siblings," I tried to convince him.

He looked at me, and for once, I couldn't read his expression. Was he sad? Angry? Displeased? Happy? I truly couldn't tell.

"My pearl," he then sighed, taking my hand into his. "You burden yourself with the cares of everyone else… and I love you for it. England has never seen a kinder princess. I hate to part with you, but I will make sure you're safe. I'll send Charles to accompany you."

"No," I reacted all too quickly. If anyone came with me, I couldn't speak freely to George about… well, the treason we had committed. "No, papa, I think you need Uncle Brandon with you. One of us should always be with you, for I'd hate to think of you alone in this nest of vipers."

"True," he returned. In the past weeks, he seemed to have developed a profound dislike of his own courtiers, who had whispered so badly about his beloved wife. Playing on that dislike was easy. "But you'll take a guard of ten men with you. No less, no discussion."

"If it pleases my King," I replied gratefully, although I was actually already making plans on how to rid myself off them.

A day later, I departed for the countryside. As we drew closer and closer to Lord Rochford's estate, I realized I was getting nervous. It had been almost half a year since I'd seen either him or his sister, and we had never been given the chance to speak about what happened at Hatfield. So many words left unspoken as of yet… I could only wonder how our conversation would even begin.

In fact, it began quite naturally, with the Lord and his wife receiving me in their parlor.

"Your Highness! Such an unexpected yet pleasing sight in our modest halls," George greeted me. His wife curtsied speechlessly. "May I inquire what brings you here? The letter you sent in advance was rather… cryptic."

"And meant to be so, for I would have hated you bar your doors for me as you do for His Majesty," I reprimanded him. "I have come on behalf of my poor brother and sister, now motherless and uncle-less."

Jane Boleyn ducked away from my wrath, but her husband saw through it. He understood why I had come. It was all just a play.

"Madam, I apologize if my behavior has inconvenienced you or my sweet niece and nephew in any way. You are welcome as our guest to stay and speak about their wellbeing."

"Speak about their wellbeing? My Lord, were I not a princess, I would have a mind to smack you with a wooden rod like a tutor does his ill-mannered students. You are their uncle, and yet you abandon them in their hour of need!"

George smiled, albeit only very briefly, before putting on a mask of distress. "Your Highness, please, not in front of my servants, of my wife…"

"You wish to hide your failures? Fair enough, so be it, then. Tell me where we may speak in private, and I shall be content to wait another day before giving you a piece of my mind."

"I have a hunting lodge, not too far away. If it pleases my Princess, we shall go on an outing tomorrow and speak there," he proposed, and I immediately knew what was hidden at that lodge. Then, he turned to Jane. "Dear wife, please have a guest room prepared for Her Highness. And speak to the cook about supper. We wouldn't want to insult the Princess's tongue."

With these words, he turned and left me with his wife. She curtsied again, pale and visibly confused, before coming a little closer.

"He'd never take me to his lodge," she whispered bitterly, and I have no idea where that came from. "He keeps his mistresses there, I know it. A harem hidden in the woods."

"You are imagining evil where there is none," I tried to assure her. "Your husband would never do something so improper."

"A harem," she whispered again, and I began to wonder whether her madness might have started long before her historical execution alongside Catherine Howard. "If you see them, you will tell me, will you not, Your Highness?"

"What… well, of course I would."

It was a lie. Whatever I saw at that lodge, Jane Boleyn was the last person I'd speak to about it. There was no doubt her husband had kept his promise and not told her about our schemes, and I was twice glad for it. She would have been an immense liability.

The day after, I invited George into my carriage as we made our way into the forest. For a few minutes, we just stared outside the windows politely, until we were sure the sound of hooves and wheels was too loud for anyone to understand our words. Then, he broke the ice.

"It is such a relief to have you here, if I may be so bold."

"I am also glad to see you. It has been the most troublesome of times," I replied. "Tell me… is she well?"

"You'll see for yourself. Making all the necessary arrangements wasn't easy… but then, I assume your work at court wasn't easy, either. I heard the King's mistress is still in the Tower?"

I nodded. "Yes, for as long as it pleases the King. Her brothers are dealt with, her father sent back to his estates in dishonor. And that certain Spanish ambassador… well, he will never be a threat again, of that I have made sure. He knows quite well the gruesome boiling fate I have prepared for him should he ever cross me again."

George nodded as well, silently looking out the window for a moment. Then, his trademark roguish grin returned.

"Well, remind me never to cross you, my Princess. You see me a man frightened to the bone."

"You're mocking me," I returned only half angrily. It was good to have some speak openly with me after so long.

And so we spoke. Mostly, I spoke, and I told him of how things had taken their turn in the capital. I told him about my desire to wait concerning Cromwell, and I somehow managed to convince him that waiting could indeed be worthwhile. Then, after a few hours of pleasant conversation, we reached our destination.

"I'm afraid my house was not designed for so many brave men as you," George told my guards before entering. "However, since you are here to protect the Princess, you surely would not mind guarding the house from outside. If any perpetrator should make it inside, rest assured that I'd gladly give my life to protect the Princess."

I don't know how he convinced my father's pit bulls, but I assume it was the cocky, charming way of his words. At last someone with self-confidence, I thought. Him and Anne and me, the only three people capable of irony in a country of dullards. (Well, that was unfair, but that's the thought I had at the moment, and it made me giggle.)

He led me into the lodge and introduced me to his staff, all of which were clearly handpicked for their loyalty. Then, he showed me the sitting room and asked for a certain 'Nan' to bring us pastries. I anxiously awaited the moment a serving maid entered the room carrying a tray. Another servant closed the door behind her, exchanging glances with his master. As she put down the tray, I rose to my feet. Our eyes met. We both smiled.

Not a word was lost at first when I embraced the Queen. She, too, had nothing to say for the moment and contented herself with hugging me. Then, both still deeply moved, we sat down.

"Well, here we are," George suddenly disturbed the silence.

I gave him a reprimanding look, but quickly smiled again. "I'm so glad to see you alive and well. After the bandits came… it all felt so real."

"It did indeed. I would have believed it myself," the Queen returned. "But now, do tell me you've come to free me."

"Not yet," I hated to reply. "There are still enemies of yours at court."

"But surely, Henry would never allow them to act, not now? George tells me the entire country knows of his mourning."

I nodded. "Oh, he does mourn you. More deeply and profoundly than any of us could have imagined. Whatever led him astray around the New Year is gone, and he now sings the highest praise of you. Madam, the King clearly loves you still, and I have no doubt he will be overjoyed once you're back."

"But when?"

"By the next year, no earlier. There are still things that I must achieve before it's safe for you to return."

The Queen seemed unhappy about my words, putting on her miffed face and staring at her brother. He raised an eyebrow at her expression.

"Do not turn to me," he told her. "So far, the Princess's plans have worked in all our best interests. Without her, I have no doubt both you and I would be dead. Surely, being a serving maid in a hunting lodge for a few more months is nothing compared to the shame of dying as an adulteress."

"That… yes, but it is beside the point. What about my darlings? What about Elizabeth and Edward, do they miss me? I cannot keep them in this painful state for too long."

"They don't understand yet," I assured her. "But I'll tell you all about them if you wish; I've only just visited them last week."

"Well, I'll leave you ladies to speak in private, then," George interjected and rose.

The Queen and I remained. I had to tell her meticulously just what had happened after her departure. Most of all, she wanted to hear about her children's health and how they took it, but when I spoke of Henry, she was intrigued. She, too, had obviously not expected him to be so heartbroken, and she tossed from triumphant glares to genuine affection. Whatever these two had, it was something passionate and special. I felt glad I had helped to protect it.

Night had already fallen when our discussion ended. I had somehow managed to make the Queen grant me time until spring. By May, her death's first anniversary, she wanted to rise like a phoenix from the flames. She had a knack for drama, I grant her that. So I promised to write letters to her brother until then, speaking of her babies' progress and wellbeing, and she promised to keep a low profile for another few months. It was a shaky arrangement, but I could only hope her desire for survival was stronger than her pride.

"We had better go," her brother finally reminded me, pointing towards the silvery moonlight outside.

So the Queen and I parted, and I returned to my carriage without any of my guards noticing what had happened in the lodge. Exhausted, I sank into the cushions.

"She is quite a handful," George remarked smiling.

"She is," I agreed.

"In the beginning, keeping her here was giving me a hard time. I had to come more often than not, trying to make sure she behaved. Of course, my servants would never speak a word; not even if they fully knew the truth, but you can never be sure… my wife upbraided me quite frequently for my 'hunting trips'."

I yawned. "She thinks you're keeping a harem here."

"A what?" For a moment, he seemed baffled, and then he laughed. "This is ridiculous."

"Well, you had better allow her to keep this illusion, for the truth would make matters far worse."

"You need not tell me that. My wife is neither bright nor kind. She'd give us away any instant if she thought to benefit from it somehow."

Ouch, I thought. His words were harsh, but remembering real Jane had accused her husband of incest, I could not help but agree. Apparently, she was a spiteful harpy, and her husband knew just that.

"Then make sure she never knows," I urged him.

"I will. Although I must say, having someone know is such a relief. Before you came… well, I…"

I was waking up again. "You?"

"Forget about it, please. I was speaking out of turn. You are the realm's most beloved princess, not my confessor."

Acting against court etiquette, I leant over and put my hand on his arm. "I am your conniver. Whatever concerns you now also concerns me. What we undertook has bound us together for better or worse. If there is anything you must speak about, then by all means, do it."

This wasn't appropriate for the time, I knew it, since he was a married man and I a noble maiden, but for a moment, I imagined us as normal grown-ups of modern days. Two friends sitting in the same boat. Just one friend comforting the other. He had displayed such unconventional behavior before, so I prayed and hoped he would not be shocked now either.

"You are too kind, my Princess. I… I only wanted to tell you that I appreciate your company. It eases the mind to know there is someone you do not need to keep secrets from."

"I enjoy that as well, my Lord. And in the arduous days to come, I know I will cherish the memory of our conversations. It reminds me of what I'm doing it all for."

"Your family," he concluded.

"My family. My brother and sister, and my stepmother the Queen. My father, too, for I see now he is a different man than before. And for you," I said almost solemnly. "I would have hated to see such a talented man fall, beheaded for the most disgustful of crimes."

"Oh, beheaded, was it? Is that what you saw in your dreams," he mocked my 'dark visions for the future' of which I had told him earlier on.

"Yes," I replied dryly. "I saw you dead in your own blood and I did not like it."

He swallowed whatever playful comment he might have wanted to say. Instead, he simply nodded.

"Then I ought to thank you for saving my life, my Princess. I… if it were not highly inappropriate, well… if it had been my sister Anne, I would have hugged her for it."

I bent over, signaling to him that for once, this would not be considered inappropriate. Smiling genuinely, George returned the gesture and bent over to embrace me. It was a long moment of silence, but it wasn't awkward. There was a deep understanding between us, between fellow conspirators, between members of the same family, between friends. It was soothing and sweet and innocent.

Which for me, until this day, makes it all the more bewildering what happened next.

As we unfolded from our embrace, our eyes met, and a strange impulse overtook me. Where he wanted to let go, I didn't, and before I knew it, I had pressed my lips to his. The moment was brief and intense, and once I realized how wantonly I was behaving, I immediately withdrew, but it was too late.

George stared at me in disbelief. "Princess, I…"

"It was nothing. A mistake. Do you understand," I hastened to say. "Please leave the carriage, my Lord."

His expression was that of a beaten dog, but he complied nevertheless. My face flushing red with shame, I watched him leave. As the door closed behind him, I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. There was only one thing going through my head, and I spoke the words aloud.

"Well, shit."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25 – In which I got married**

If my secret and highly inappropriate encounter with George Boleyn has led you to believe that I would now speak about lovey-dovey stuff, I am sorry to disappoint you. While it might be true that a story about two star-crossed lovers would be nice, it surely wasn't what I had come to England for. And besides, I didn't even feel like that. After the initial shock about my own undue behaviour had waned, I sat down quietly and pondered the matter in a more rational manner. The conclusion I reached was that, while I truly somehow felt a little attraction towards George Boleyn, I clearly didn't love him or harbour any other feelings big enough to ruin all my plans for.

There was much more important business ahead, anyway. Had I paid more attention during my school years, I might have seen it coming. But I didn't, and now I had to act quickly, since Europe was drowning in war again. France and Spain were at each other's throats. The famous Franco-Turkish alliance had reached new heights as King Francis and my cousin, the Emperor, fought over the Italian states. The French had not been able to capture Genoa, but were currently on the loose in northern Italy, plundering, besieging and rampaging.

My dear cousin and ally Mary, governess of the Netherlands, had sent letters pleading for English support. Now was the time to act, she said, before the unholy alliance of Christians and Muslims would proceed. While I didn't agree with her antipathy towards the Turks, I remembered from my history lessons that a truce would eventually be struck. If Mary and I interfered now, we might just make it look like the peace settlement was our merit.

Fortunately, the idea of war with France agreed with my father.

"They'll get what they deserve. And Francis, that snake. He pretended to be Anne's friend when we last met, but in her hour of need, he abandoned her," the King ranted. Then, as if his anger had exhausted him, he stopped pacing around and dropped into an armchair. "My councillors are urging me to remarry."

I, too, stopped walking around and sat by him. "So soon?"

"The six months of mourning are over. They worry about the succession in case of war, they say," he sighed. Suddenly he turned angry. "To bloody hell with them, I say!"

"Why would they urge you, their sovereign lord, to do anything that bothers your conscience?"

"True," he agreed furiously. "How dare they presume to dictate my behaviour? How dare they assume I would not act in England's best interest? Of course I know of the uncertainties my succession would pose! Your brother is but an infant, and my only son at that. I know. I know! But how can it change what I feel?"

Gently, I touched his arm to calm him down. "I can understand your troubles, Father. It is presumptuous and unreasonable that they should force your hand. And unnecessary at that. If it is sons your noblemen crave so much, they need not bother you."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Father, I am of an age to marry now. My union with Duke Philipp has but to be formalized. And was it not agreed that he would forsake his German titles and estates to become your subject? Would that not make him an Englishman, a Tudor, and our offspring as much your blood as your own sons?" I tried hard to sound convincing. "If it is royal sons they wish, let them come from my womb. I can give you grandsons to strengthen our dynasty."

"Mary…"

"Do not deny it, Father. We should hasten the wedding. It would also bring us Philipp's troops, which we could put to good use."

He took my hand in his. "I cannot ask this of you, my pearl. After all that you… that we have been through this year, you deserve a splendid wedding feast, not an impromptu ceremony."

"We're at war, Your Majesty," I dared to remind him. "My vain pleasures can wait until the wounds of Europe are mended once more. A modest ceremony, before the eyes of God and witnesses, shall suffice until then."

I expected him to object again, but instead he smiled sadly and caressed my cheek.

"You're so strong… It is my fault, sweetheart," he said softly. "I have tossed you into these dark waters because I needed you, and paid for it with your happiness."

"Your Majesty has done nothing wrong. I am sure your grandmother, Lady Beaufort, went through much greater hardships, as did your own mother during her childhood days. It is the burden of royalty to sacrifice our happiness for that of everyone else and it does not trouble me. I was willing to wed the Duke before, and still am. The circumstances matter little to me."

"My girl." Henry softly patted my hair. "Strong like your mother."

I must say, I was genuinely surprised to hear him praise Catherine of Aragon after all that had happened. But perhaps, since he had been taught a lesson in humility and she was still alive, they would be able to mend their relationship sooner or later. Not back into love, but perhaps into mutual admiration.

"I'll send for the Duke, then, and have the papers drawn up. You can be wed before Christmas, child, if it be your wish."

"Yes, Father. May I write to my mother and tell her of the news?"

Henry hesitated for a second, but then he nodded. "Of course. She'll be very pleased to hear about it. After all, she has been nagging me for years to get you wed. Though I guess she is not overly pleased with your chosen husband…"

"Not at all," I corrected him. "When we last spoke, she assured me that my happiness was her first concern, not political matters."

"Then her marriage to God has truly changed her heart," my father concluded. "And she has proven a dutiful subject so far. Perhaps I should reward her by inviting her to witness your wedding. Unofficially, of course, for I cannot risk anyone saying she was still my wife."

"Of course," I agreed hastily. "Your Majesty is very generous. I am sure my mother will cherish this gift for what it is and not cause any disturbances."

I'd make sure she would, I promised myself. This chance was too precious to be wasted on childish trifles between my father and mother. Anne's death might just prove to be the remedy for their broken relationship if I played my cards well.

And so I wrote to my mother, telling her all about my upcoming nuptials, and I also wrote letters to my friends. My cousin Mary wouldn't be able to attend, of course, but I was sure she would be happy for me and send her regards. Her namesake, Mary Fitzroy, would also probably not attend, since her husband was still seriously ill. Shortly after Queen Anne's 'death', I had sent physicians to the Fitzroy estates, remembering that historically, he too would soon be dead. So far, they had managed to preserve his life, but the reports I received made me wonder how long I would be able to cheat fate. Perhaps he was destined to die no matter what I did.

There was one person, however, that I wanted to attend, even though I could not be seen together with her – Anne Stanhope. And much to my delight, I received a positive reply and was able to meet again with her, albeit in secret. Country life seemed to agree with her, for despite the harsh cold of November outside, her cheeks were rosy and plump. She told me about her daughter and the manor she was now mistress of, and as she spoke I realized how much I had changed her. Real life Anne had been cold, conniving and aspiring, and while I could still see parts of it in her, she was no longer the same. The woman who, in real life, would haughtily demand that her former friend, Dowager Queen Katherine Parr, would bow to her as the wife of the Lord Protector, was not the woman sitting before me. My Anne Stanhope had received what she wanted without becoming a heartless bitch, and she had achieved it all far earlier than in history. Apparently, it had softened her soul.

"I'm so glad you came," I told her before we parted again. "Speaking to you has assured me in the knowledge that the path I am to go down is good and true."

Anne smiled. "Were you ever in doubt?"

"I, um…" How could I tell her that entering an arranged marriage seemed alien to me because, in my time, people married for love? She would never understand.

"Don't worry, you're doing what is best. You always have," Anne reassured me laughing. "It is the reason I chose to side with you, to follow you, to put my trust in you. Whatever you do, it comes out for the best. God clearly smiles upon you, my Princess."

"You're exaggerating," I scolded her.

"Which is exactly what you need. I know, I was a blushing maiden too before I wed. The feeling will pass."

I smiled and thanked her, carefully trying to hide the fact that I was no blushing maiden at all. While I had lived many years in Mary's shoes now, I still remembered the time when I had been a modern woman. I hadn't lived a life of chastity, then. I wasn't afraid of what was to come, although I had to pretend to be in front of everyone. It wasn't too hard, though, since I was somehow afraid still – that I would be awkward. I knew I liked Philipp, and that he liked me, but I had never been intimate with a man I had not been passionately in love with. And besides, while I wasn't technically a virgin, Mary's body was. I tried hard to remember whether it would actually hurt. The whole situation was weird, but hey, I chose it. I would not be deterred now.

And so, in December 1536, I walked down the aisle of the royal chapel at Whitehall. As was promised, it wasn't a splendid affair, only the most important noblemen and some of the clergy had come to witness. The King was there to give me away, and amidst the clerical witnesses, my mother stood with tears in her eyes. The only important noblemen not to follow the invitation were the Duke of Norfolk, who was currently mustering our troops at Dover, and Lord Rochford, for which I was truly grateful. Looking at George Boleyn would have made the whole ordeal even more awkward than it was.

There was a small banquet with some dancing and jest, but only for one evening. I sat and drank, received warm wishes from nobles and courtiers, and then withdrew with the stranger who was now my husband. And, say what you will about the Germans, Philipp certainly wasn't a bad choice.

"I would be alone with my wife. Your help is not needed in this," he ordered out the ladies and grooms who had escorted us to our room. His voice was that of a battle-seasoned war commander – there was no room for objection.

I watched in awe as they withdrew, studying Philipp's silhouette while nervously poking around in the fireplace. When they were gone, he dropped the stern face and turned to me smiling.

"Finally. I was beginning to believe this would never end," he sighed and slowly approached me. Somehow, he must have noticed my jumpiness. "Are you unwell?"

"Me? I… no, I am fine. A little tipsy, perhaps," I hastened to reply and smile. "But I am… unsure."

Philipp stopped at arm's length. The fire drew dancing shadows on his face. "You chose me, Princess, because you said you trusted me. Is that still the case?"

"Yes."

"Then there is nothing you need to be afraid of. I am not your enemy, nor will I ever be. I'll do my best never to hurt you, as I promised when you approached me about this marriage. But if you now wish for it to be in name only, an alliance for political purposes, I…"

I stepped forward, somehow humiliated by the way he tried to comfort me. Shaking my head violently, I took his hands into mine. "It wouldn't be a true marriage then. A true marriage must be consummated, especially if one wishes for heirs."

"And do you?," Philipp asked tentatively.

"I, um… my father clearly is in need of heirs, and I… uh," I stammered, clearly not going anywhere with my thoughts. Forget this shit, I thought, you're a woman grown! Just act like the woman you are and be done with it. "Philipp, I'm not afraid of you or this. I just don't know what to do, and I'll be needing your guidance. I know saying this doesn't sound very romantic, but it is the truth."

He smiled and slowly began to come closer to my face. "I find the truth to be rather compelling at times. For example, it would be nothing but the truth if I told you just how radiant you have been looking the entire evening. Every man fought hard to keep his eyes off you."

I returned the smile. This was flirting, and although I hadn't done it in so many years, it still came back naturally. Tilting my head to invite him, I replied: "Did they? Well, they are to be pitied then, for there is only one man who can have me."

Philipp's lips touched mine immediately after that, but only for the beat of a heart, before he withdrew again. He still remained very close, however, so I could feel his breath on my skin.

"And who would that lucky man be, I wonder," he whispered.

I chuckled. "Did no one tell you?"

"No," he sighed in pretend and placed a kiss on my cheek. His hands began pull me into a soft embrace. "I would forever be indebted to you if you told me."

I closed my eyes and allowed him to proceed. "On a night like this, if asked so nicely, can a lady say no?"

"On a night like this, can a princess say no," Philipp rhetorically returned as his fingers approached the lacing of my corset.

"Not this princess," I said breathlessly. "At least not to her husband."

"He must be a very lucky man, then, if you consent to him."

Philipp's attention returned to my face as he looked me in the eyes, clearly waiting to hear from me that I agreed with his intentions.

"I consent," I whispered, and then he kissed me again, this time more forceful and passionate.

It wasn't love. But it wasn't bad either.

Even though I had dreaded this arranged marriage, it now felt quite endurable to me. In the days after our wedding, Philipp and I were granted many hours alone to become acquainted. And we certainly did become acquainted… quite often. What can I say? He wasn't a bad choice as husband.

During Christmas, we had Edward and Elizabeth come to court, and for a while, even my father seemed to be happy again. He had us all sit on the dais with him: he in the middle, with infant Edward in his arms, me by his right side with Elizabeth on my lap, and Philipp to his left.

"Je suis en familie," he proclaimed joyfully.

Only the Queen was missing now, and I would make sure she returned soon. My father had suffered long enough, and according to my spies, even Cromwell now doubted that working against the Queen had been such a good idea. Perhaps I could bring her back when my father returned from Europe, where he planned to go alongside Philipp's army and his own English troops.

"You know I hate to leave you alone, my pearl, and without your husband at that," the King told me before he departed in January. "But you do know that I need him with me."

"That was the point of my marriage, was it not? To get Philipp's military support," I replied smiling.

"Not only that," my father teased back and looked at my stomach. "Is there… any sign?"

I blushed. It felt uncomfortable to be asked about such private matters, but in Tudor times, privacy was very much non-existent.

"Not as of yet, but it has barely been a month. Perhaps we'll know when you return. So please, Father, make sure to return safely, both you and Philipp. I have no wish to be an orphan or a widow so soon."

Henry bent over to kiss my forehead. "I do so swear, sweet child. I promise to see my grandchildren take their first steps, and to teach them archery myself. But until then, we'll teach the French a lesson or two."

"I shall pray for your success day and night," I assured him smiling. "And of course I'll care for my siblings, and for England."

"You need not worry, sweetheart. I know how much I burdened you by naming you my regent when I mourned the Queen. I'll not place the same harsh burden on you again."

My heart stopped at these words. What? He would not make me regent again while he was abroad? But my whole plan on returning Queen Anne from the dead rested on it!

"What… who…"

"I wanted to leave it to your uncle Suffolk, but he insisted on joining me on the battlefield. As in the good old days," Henry explained.

"Did I displease you? Have I given Your Majesty cause to distrust me?"

"Oh Mary," he sighed and put his hands on my shoulders. "Not in the least! But you are a woman, a young one at that, and might even be expecting. Defending a country is no easy feat and I would not put it only to you to protect England against her enemies. I have sent for your other uncle, Lord Rochford, to be your co-regent while I am away."

My face must have turned snow white, I guess. My father clearly expected me to be grateful and rejoice, but this was by far the worst possible outcome to my mind.

"He has arrived this morning. I have requested his presence here, so I could tell you and him together. Guards! Send in Lord Rochford!"

I stood beside the council table like a rock, unable to move or think. In silent horror I watched as George Boleyn entered, was embraced by my father, and then proceeded towards me.

"Your Highness, such a pleasure to see you again. Happy New Year, and may I also apologise for missing your wedding? You are to be congratulated."

"Thank you," I mustered to squeeze out my lips.

"And I am pleased to finally have you back, George," the King interrupted. "It has been too long, but no more. You are a peer of this realm, and as such, I demand your service."

George turned around and nodded. "Whatever Your Majesty requires of me shall be done."

"As you know, I will soon be leaving for the continent to punish the wicked Turks and their French allies. God be good we can send this Barbarossa back to the wasteland whence he came," my Father declared. "In my absence, I have decreed my eldest daughter, the Princess Mary, to be regent alongside one of my most trusted noblemen… you, Lord Rochford."

George clearly hesitated, although I couldn't see his face. Then he remembered his good manners and bowed before the King.

"Your Majesty is too generous. I am honoured."

"If I wanted to honour you, George, I'd have given you estates. I want you to rule my country and aid my daughter, for there are few men in this realm I can trust as I can trust the two of you. England will need all of your wits. Can you do this for me?"

"It shall be a dutiful honour for me, then," George replied. "And may I say that I feel twice honoured to stand beside such a formidable woman as you, Princess Mary? It has been too long since we last spoke. I hope we can make up for it in the months to come."

Henry seemed a bit puzzled, and I felt I was getting angry. What was George hinting at? Was he mad? His words could give all our schemes away. And for what? To tease me because of a kiss?

"I would love to spend more time with you, Uncle George, seeing that I shall have little other family left in England. The two men most dear to my heart will be gone," I replied and smiled at my father.

"The King and your husband, yes," George interjected before Henry had a chance to respond. "I trust marriage agrees with you?"

"Apparently, it does," I returned sharply. "How is your wife, by the way?"

He didn't answer now. Instead, he smiled bitterly, bowed before my father and asked to be excused. The King allowed him and watched him go. Although he didn't speak a word, I knew he had sensed the oddness of my exchange with George, but he chose not to address the matter. Perhaps he didn't think it was more than casual banter, or perhaps he didn't actually want to know what was going on.

But I knew, and I knew I would be in great trouble once my father and Philipp left. Apparently, fate always found a way to mess with me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 - In which I became a true Tudor**

By any means, I should have rejoiced. My fellow conspirator and true friend George Boleyn and I now ruled England together while my father was away fighting the French. A year ago, when we had begun to plan the Queen's staged death, I would have laughed giddy with joy to be given such an opportunity. It would be so easy now for us to outmanoeuvre Cromwell and bring George's sister back where she belonged.

But, alas, things were never easy in Tudor times.

The first time George and I came together in my father's council room after the war party had left, you could physically feel the tension. There was an awkward silence between us in which neither of us looked the other in the eyes. I knew it was my fault, mine entirely. When everything had been going smoothly, I had ruined everything by kissing him. A married man, much older than me. My uncle by marriage. The man who would ascend to the block just before me if anyone ever figured out our scheme. It hadn't been my best choice so far.

But we tried to make it work. After casually speaking about some political matters that Cromwell had assembled for us, we sat down and, without saying a word about it, decided it was now time to act.

George cleared his throat. "I have been thinking about dismissing the staff of my hunting lodge. It was a wonderful place for a time, but now I think I might no longer need it. What do you think?"

Clever! His deftness almost made me smile. Here, at the centre of power, we could never be sure that no one would overhear our words, especially not Cromwell. We had to plan Anne's return without anyone knowing what we spoke about.

"Your hunting trips certainly haven't been without merit, I presume," I replied. "But I agree, it is time for you to return to court once and for all. Prince Edward and Princess Elizabeth have been without a vital part of their family for far too long now."

"I'm glad you agree. Perhaps I should return to my estates in due time and arrange for everything to be done. I would want to bother my sweet wife with such trifles."

"No, of course you wouldn't." My words were rather hushed, but he had heard them nonetheless.

I could see him grinding his teeth, but was unable to read his emotions. What was wrong? Why had that one little perch affected him so? Or was there some other problem that I didn't even anticipate?

"Then I shall proceed as planned. Would it suit Your Highness if I left court in three days' time?"

"I don't see why not. You have my permission to leave, Lord Rochford."

"Good." He rose from his chair without looking at me. Then he paced towards the window, stared out for a moment or two, before turning around abruptly. "My Princess, you…"

I returned his gaze, unsure of what to expect. A scolding? An outburst of emotions? A declaration of love? What?

Taking two steps in my direction, he opened his mouth to speak again, but was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. The sound seemed to be a relief to him.

"Your Highness, my Lord," a page said as he entered. "There is hasty news from the North."

"Why is it so important that you must disturb us? Should you not have informed Master Cromwell instead," I angrily turned on him.

He flinched, but didn't flee my gaze. "We… we did inform him, or are doing so as we speak. But I thought it best to inform Your Highness straight away. There has been an uprising in York."

I sank into my chair. Of course! How could I have been so foolish as to believe that my deeds would prevent history from doing what it meant to do? I might have kept my father from breaking with Rome as harshly as he might have, and I might have softened the people towards his second marriage, but I had not fully prevented Cromwell from his investigation of the abbeys. He had closed monasteries, abolished feasting days and imprisoned monks, and now we were paying the price. Delayed, perhaps, but only by a few months.

"The Pilgrimage…," I whispered.

"Well speak, you knave," George hissed at the page. "What has happened? Don't leave us in the dark!"

"They call themselves the Pilgrimage of Grace. A man by the name of Robert Aske leads them, or so we've been told. Hundreds and thousands have gathered in York and other Northern towns. They mean to march south."

George wasn't satisfied with the answer. "What are their demands?"

"Religious matters. They demand to have back their old feasting days and the closed monasteries, and that the King return to Rome. They have also publicly declared their love and support for you, Your Highness."

I suddenly found both of the men looking at me and so I blushed, much to my dismay.

"Well, I certainly hold no love for insubordinate subjects, who turn against their sovereign lord and seek to blackmail him. Send for Master Cromwell and the councillors. We need to take measures, muster troops, and force these rebels to detest. My father, the King, expects us to protect his country while he chastises the French, and I mean to obey his every wish. Are you his loyal subject, too, Thomas?"

The page, somehow in awe by my words, bowed before me in haste. "Of course. I am His Majesty's most loyal servant… and yours, too, Your Highness."

"Then go," I ordered him and waited for him to comply until I turned to George. His face was wrinkled with worry. "We might have to postpone your hunting lodge trip… at least until we have sorted out what to do."

"I think Your Highness knows perfectly well what to do. Your words had an air of confidence to them that certainly convinced your page," he replied. "But if you seek my humble opinions, of course I'll support you in this crisis. His Majesty appointed me to do just that, didn't he? Serve and obey you?"

I sighed and tried to walk towards him. "Lord… George. You're as much regent as I am."

He straightened his shoulders and hardened his face, clearly showing me that my offer of peace was unwanted. I stopped my movement.

"We are in this together then, Your Highness. Trust in me to assist you and protect England while His Majesty and your husband fight our foreign wars."

"George, you…"

"The councillors will soon be here," he brushed my words away. "We had better come up with words to lift their spirit, and to encourage their support for the crown. It is not wise to meet them offhand."

I sighed again and accepted the fact that we would not speak about the awkwardness between us. Not yet.

"What does Your Lordship suggest we say to them?"

In fact, it turned out we didn't have so say much. They all beleaguered us with their outcries of anger and demands for justice. The only one uncomfortably silent was Cromwell, but I liked him that way. He hadn't seen this coming, I knew, and I enjoyed the fact that it humbled him. Perhaps I could speak to him on a private occasion and increase the guilt he felt for this disaster. It could just turn him into the man I needed him to be. But first, we had to deal with the rebels. I wouldn't refer to them as pilgrims, even though the professed their love for me. Of course I intended to be just and merciful, but to the untrained eye, I had to appear every inch my father's daughter. A Tudor princess. Tudor's didn't take kindly to treason.

In the end, we agreed to send the Duke of Norfolk (a devout Catholic) and the Earl of Shrewsbury (a military man) to meet the rebels before they reached Doncaster. There, they would threaten to incur the King's wrath on the rebels while at the same time offering their leaders safe passage to London. They would meet with me, explain their demands, and receive a just verdict. Since we didn't have many able soldiers left in England, it was our best choice to face such overwhelming numbers.

Fortunately, George agreed with me. We decided he would return to his manor quickly to send Anne away according to our plans. Then, he would return just in time to receive the rebels. It was a daring plan.

We should have known it wouldn't work.

I anxiously waited for George to return while at the same time trying to manage a country. What can I say? It's not an easy task. Being regent during my father's mourning had been easier, but now that we were at war, problems seemed to spring up like daisies from the snow. Without Cromwell's diligence, I admit, I might now have succeeded. And he was very eager, always burying me in matters and possible solutions so as to distract me from blaming him for the Northern uprising. If he thought to fool me thus, however, he would soon find himself mistaken. I would only allow him to feel safe for a few more days, until after I had parlayed with the rebels. I still hoped George would come and aid me. A man talking about such matters would have been more warmly received, I presumed, but I would never find out.

George didn't come. I would have to succeed or fail alone.

On a rainy day in March 1537, I sat on my father's throne for the first time. Whether or not to sit it had been a matter of long deliberation, but after consulting with my lawyers, I had been given the confirmation that as regent, I had the right to do so. Thus, I would, for I intended to awe the rebels and intimidate them. I didn't have the manpower to fight them, so I would have to appeal to their souls.

Wearing a pearl-laced coronet and a reddish-purple gown, I tried my best to look every inch a royal as the men approached me. They were introduced as Sir Robert Constable and Sir Ralph Ellerker, two of Aske's closest confidants, as I remembered. Of course I wouldn't let them know just how much I knew about their rebellion.

"You stand before Her Royal Highness, the Princess Mary, Lady Regent of England," a herald reminded them.

I trembled as I watched them kneel before me. They held me in high esteem, I could see it in their eyes. Perhaps they weren't bad men after all, but I would have to give them a piece of my Tudor mind nonetheless. The eyes of my court, of England, were all upon me.

"Gentlemen! What folly, what selfish delusion has driven you to commit your treasonous act? What condemnable lunacy has convinced you to revolt against your sovereign lord and king?"

I paused dramatically, savouring the shock in Sir Ralph's face. He cleared his throat to respond, but I spoke up anew.

"For is it not just that which you have committed, gentlemen? A treasonous rebellion against us, the crown of England, who have loved you more than any other part of the realm? Is your sovereign lord, King Henry VIII, not the kindest, the most generous and the most just overlord in all of Europe? Should you not consider yourself blessed to enjoy the merits of his long and peaceful reign? Yet you take up arms and threaten the very foundation of this country by rising against your betters."

"Your Highness, I beseech you to believe us that we meant no disrespect," Sir Robert interjected hastily.

I nodded gracefully. "I am not unwilling to do so, Sir Robert. I have heard of your cause and what it is that you seek. It has given me reason to believe that you are good men, pious men, who wish for nothing but to live in peace according to the ways of their fathers."

"That is all we aim for, Your Highness," Sir Robert assured me.

"But then why, pray tell me, did you not come to me? Am I not a woman, with a heart to give mercy and reconcile?"

Sir Ralph seemed to be awoken by my words. "We love you above all, Your Highness, please believe us!"

"And yet you did not come," I replied in feigned disappointment. "You didn't petition the crown, you didn't seek for compensation. You took up arms. You agitated the masses. You sang songs of disobedience and you are threatening to throw our beautiful country into the dark abyss of perfidy. Tell me, gentlemen, what good is in that? Do you believe it God's will that you should act against His own most fundamental laws by unnaturally rising up against your king?"

They looked at me with big, astonished eyes.

"Perhaps your love for me is not as great as you profess. Perhaps you thought it best to act now, while the King is away, and exploit the fact that he left me, bare woman that I am, to keep his country safe. Is it not so, gentlemen?" I waited until they wanted to object before speaking up again. "But you are mistaken. Very much so. For you see, I am my father's daughter, and the grandchild of his father before him. Henry the victorious, who ended the years and years of bloodshed and devastation that were the Wars of the Roses. The days of darkness and despair in which you would gladly push back our country only to establish your selfish demands. But let me tell you this: you shall not succeed. As long as I draw breath, I shall obey my royal father's command and protect England from her foes, foreign or within. I may have the feeble body of a woman, gentlemen, but my heart is a Tudor heart, the heart of a king. I shall not be intimidated, no matter how many men are waving your banners. I shall not detest, no matter how close you come to London. For I know this: I am England, and I will not go down without a fight. If you insist upon your unholy rebellion, I will unleash the Tudor fury upon you, and may God grant you mercy, for I – SHALL – NOT !"

The last words had been so loud and clear that anyone in the reception hall heard me. It had become deadly silent. I tried my best to keep remain pokerfaced, and since I had talked myself into a rage, it wasn't that hard. Shooting dark daggers from my eyes, I looked down upon the two sorry men who had been forced to endure my wrath. It took them a while to react, and in the end, it was Sir Robert, the more courageous of the two.

"Y… Your Highness, please allow me to assure you that we mean you no harm. We… we would only petition you to listen to our demands, and judge them according to your conscience."

"I shall do so," I said haughtily. "And when I have given you a verdict, you shall accept it and disband. Any man who lays down his weapons shall be granted mercy, and any man who persists in his unnatural uprising shall be put to death."

"Your Highness is the most gracious princess," Sir Ralph said quickly.

"It is not grace I aim for, Sir Ralph, but justice. Justice and peace for England. If you wish the same, and if you return to your place as loyal and obedient subjects to the crown, I am willing to forgive. But do not presume to compel me to any other concessions. It is the King's mercy you are about to receive, Sir Ralph. It is never granted twice."

"For which we are grateful," Sir Robert interjected to calm me down. "We shall do as you wish, Your Highness. Whenever it pleases you to hear our demands, we shall be happy to put them to you."

"Never," I cut his words in a dark tone. "It has pained my heart too long to face such rebellious and disloyal men as you. You'll put your cares to the Lord Chancellor, Master Cromwell, and if you can convince him, then and only then will I be able to forgive you."

I could see the idea of talking to the very man they despised as the emissary of Satan didn't sit well with the rebels.

"But, Your Highness…"

"I said you will put them to Master Cromwell," I raised my voice. "Consider it a royal command. Obeying it would prove your obedience to the crown, Sir Ralph."

They didn't speak back to me again. Instead, the hastily bowed and left the room, while I continued to sit there and look gloomy in order to impress my courtiers. It was all show, just show, I realised now. But if I wanted to hold England together, that was the show I had to put up. And it never ended. When I left the reception hall, I already began to prepare for my next show, which would arguably have much fewer spectators. Only one, that was.

Cromwell came to me the next day and dutifully reported on all the demands Sir Ralph and Sir Robert had put before him. Not one word did he waste to speak about the tensions that must have arisen between them. He played his role of the duteous servant to the last. After he'd told me everything, I turned to the window and theatrically sighed.

"It is such a mess," I said, once again feigning disappointment. Then, I waited. Silence could be very uncomfortable for those who felt guilty, I knew from many hours of watching series like The Mentalist. I could only hope 21st century psychology also worked in the 16th.

Apparently, it did.

"Your Highness must excuse…"

I turned around, looking at Cromwell with as little expression as I could muster. I wanted him to feel extremely uncomfortable and unsure.

"This matter is my fault entirely," he finally admitted. "I should have known about it beforehand, I should have protected the crown."

"And yet you didn't," I said in a tone that sounded like I was sorry for the whole situation.

Cromwell hesitated. "Have… you written to the King, yet?"

"No, I haven't. I didn't have the heart to tell him and break his. He, the most gentle of lords, has put all his trust in us to keep and protect England. What would he say if he found out just how terribly his servants and subjects have let him down?"

"Your Highness has done nothing wrong," he tried to sweet-talk me.

I nodded. "No. But you have," I returned bluntly and turned to him. "You proceeded in your religious dealings and brought about this wave of angry resentment that now threatens to drown us all. You persisted even though I had warned you precisely of what would happen if you did. I just don't know how to tell the King about that."

Finally, finally I could see fear in his eyes. It had taken me years, but I had finally pushed him where I needed him. He took a few stumbling steps towards me, and I half expected him to fall to his knees.

"Your Highness, I beg you reconsider…"

I raised my hand to stop him. "I told you. You wouldn't listen, and now we are where we are. We must face this crisis or perish. You have brought this upon us, so I command you to find a way out. And I shall pray to God that you now see the signs that He gave you, and that this disaster has made you humbler than you were before." I waited to study the emotions in his face. When I had said 'disaster', he seemed like a beaten dog. "You are a good servant, Master Cromwell. Perhaps the best the English crown has had in a hundred years. But you are also just that. A servant. If you forget your place, God punishes you accordingly. I tried to warn you about it."

There was silence for a minute or two. Then Cromwell cleared his throat.

"I shall obey Your Highness's command and carry out your verdict on the rebels. You can trust me."

"If only you trusted me," I sighed. "If only you had believed me when there was still time, none of this need have happened. If only you accepted me as your mistress, as rightfully you should. Your ambitions have hurt the royal family, and thus England. I pray that you have now seen the error of your ways and will return to the path of justice and rightfulness. I am sure God will reward you, and England, for it. You are dismissed."

Obviously, there was much left to say, and Cromwell wanted to speak, but he bit his tongue and bowed. Perhaps he wanted me to believe his words so I wouldn't rat him out to my father, or perhaps he was truly humiliated by the situation. Only time would tell.

I could have been satisfied then. What I had set out to achieve in this messy situation, I had achieved. But I couldn't feel safe and secure until I heard about my secret objective, about the woman in the hunting lodge and her brother and how it all went about. So, since George wouldn't come back to court or reply to my messages, I decided to leave England in Cromwell's care for a day or two and ride out to the Rochford estates.

It was pitch dark outside when I finally arrived. Of course, I was accompanied by the manifold guards my father had assigned to me, but I would not have them overhear my angry conversation with George about why he had forsaken me.

"Wait here," I ordered them.

They didn't object, even though some of them seemed to want it. Did they fear my wrath? Perhaps my little show with the rebels had enhanced my reputation as an angry Tudor royal. On the inside, I cherished the idea and giggled a little as I entered George's manor.

His steward received me in a very sombre tone, and so did the other servants. I could feel something was odd, but I couldn't tell what it was, nor would I have ever guessed it. They led me to their lord's private parlour and bowed very deeply. Then I entered.

He sat by the fireplace and didn't even bother to stand up or turn around when I entered, even though a servant announced me. Together with the fact that he had left me to deal with the rebels on my own, this fact made me truly angry. I didn't even wait until the servant had left before giving George a piece of my mind.

"Why were you not at court? I expected you there and you had promised, no, sworn to do so! I was left to fend for myself, thrown to the wolves while you sat here by the fire! Why did you betray me so?"

He didn't reply.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself? Have you lost your tongue?"

He didn't turn around. A wooden log cracked in the fireplace. He cleared his throat.

"She's dead."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27 – In which some people were lost and others were found**

"She's dead."

George's words made my mind go numb. Only the flickering light of the fireplace and my own heartbeat seemed to exist now. I managed to whisper but one word.

"Who?"

He didn't respond, didn't even turn around. My heart felt like it was being wrenched from my chest. I ventured towards him, touched his shoulder, but there was no reaction.

"What has happened?"

Nothing. I sank to my knees, putting one of my trembling hands on his arm, and tried to find his eyes by looking up from below. A log cracked loudly in the fireplace when our eyes finally met.

"It's my fault," he whispered.

"What… George, tell me what happened. Tell me from the beginning, please."

His eyes were hollow, but slowly his lips began to move.

"I went to the lodge. I told her… about our plans, and that she had to leave. She disliked every bit of it, as you said she would. And I convinced her nonetheless, as you said I would."

My fingers felt so cold…

"Anne? What has happened to her?"

"Anne…" George said her name like it was alien to him. "She didn't like it, but she complied. I… we had it all prepared, and then she came. I… I don't know how or why. She was there. Just there."

"Who?"

He raised his chin, allowing me to see more of his face. It was ridden with sorrow. Apparently, it was hard for him to find his words.

"My… um… Jane."

I didn't know what to say.

"She was livid. Ranted and threw things at me. Yelled things about a harem… you told me, I know. I should have seen it coming. But I tried to calm her, I really tried."

Perhaps it wasn't a smart move, but I began patting his arm. He just seemed so… lost, I couldn't avoid feeling pitifully drawn to him.

"But you must understand… she would have given us away," he said desperately. "She would have turned us in without even so much as the blink of an eye. She would have destroyed us."

I almost didn't dare to ask. "And… Anne?"

"I managed to send her away. Hurried up the matter. In the dark of the night. She got away. But Jane, she…"

He turned his face away again, and I could see him swallowing tears.

"George, it's alright. I'm not angry anymore. I won't blame you for anything. Just tell me what happened."

"But you should blame me," he furiously replied. "I killed her. Don't you understand? I killed her…"

The suspense was killing me, so I snapped. "Who, for God's sake?"

After what seemed like an eternity of swallowed tears, George looked me dead in the eyes.

"My wife. She thought I was spiriting away my mistresses, and she came running after me, and when I caught her, we fought. She yelled and she kicked and she punched me and I tried… but I failed, and then she turned, and she fell. Down and down and down the stairs… until she yelled no more."

His face was deadly pale, and so too was mine, probably.

"It… it wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

He shook his head, and then suddenly, he yelled: "I killed her!"

"Hush, George! What if the servants hear?"

"Let them hear! They know she's dead, they mourn her as they should, as I will never be able to! They helped me carry her here and present her to the coroner as if she had tripped on the manor's stairs, but we all know it's a lie. We all know who killed her."

"They are loyal to you because you are innocent. You fought and she tripped. It was bad luck. You didn't want to kill her, did you?"

"No," he sighed.

"Then you are not her murderer."

"But I'm not sad she's gone either. She's my wife, she's dead because of me, and the first thing I felt wasn't shock or sadness or guilt. It was relief."

He pushed away my hand from his arm, clearly more disgusted by himself than by me.

"Relief at my wife's death. For that, I am guilty, and for that I shall burn in hell."

"George, you…"

He didn't care what I had to say. "Please go. The King and your husband will soon return, as will the Queen. It'll be a mess, and without your guidance, many things could go awry. Go back to London. You have no need of me anymore."

"No. I can't leave you like this."

George sighed. "And why not? I am of no significance, I have played my part and paid my dues. Go home, Princess, and care for your family."

I wanted to object, wanted to scream him back to sanity, but I could see that despite his claims he was grieving for Jane. If he didn't want my help, there was nothing I could do right now. Perhaps in time, when his sister returned to court, he would realize the price he had paid had been worth it. Silently I rose to my feet and left Rochford House, though the image of George's sad eyes didn't leave me. It stayed with me and I could not shake it off.

In April, I received word from the continent that a peace had been struck. Apparently, the allied English and Bavarian troops had forced the war parties to accept a truce, and now Francis and my cousin would sign a peace treaty. A treaty that would be seen as a gift of peace from England, who had significantly risen in Europe's esteem. We weren't a minor island nation now, were we?

In early May, the English warships returned to our shores, and I giddily awaited the return of our heroes. I had their reception meticulously planned, with trumpets and cheering crowds and banquets in their honour. Standing in the courtyard of Hampton Court clad in purple, I watched in satisfaction and awe as my father the king and my husband rode towards me, cheered on by an innumerable amount of people. England's day of glory, they would call it in the weeks to come. The King dismounted his horse, took off his crowned helmet, and opened his arms.

"Mary," he laughed. "My pearl!"

I embraced him tightly, honestly happy to see him again alive and well. And so lean! Doing the "real thing" again seemed to have had a positive effect on his waistline.

"We'll talk later," he whispered to me before turning around. "Come, darling, and welcome home England's new hero. He personally slew one of the most renowned Turkish generals, you know?"

Philipp smiled in what seemed to be embarrassment before offering to kiss my hand. I must admit, I was also truly glad to see him again alive and well, so I refuted his offer and instead kissed him on the cheek. Anything else might have been improper, but I knew from his greatly enlarged smile that he liked my welcoming gift.

"Hello wife," he whispered.

"Hello England's hero," I returned.

"To England, to St. George, and to the Tudors," my father yelled at the cheering crowd.

"To the Tudors," we all echoed.

We retreated then, but only for a short time. My father was instantly beleaguered by courtiers and servants, but I managed to spirit away my husband for an hour. When we finally reached our apartments and rid ourselves of the servants following us like flies, we both sighed deeply. Then we embraced. It was forceful, it was desperate, and it was honest.

"It's good to be back."

"I prayed for you every night," I replied. "I asked God not to take you away from me so soon. I still have need of you."

Philipp chuckled. "Do you, now?" With that, his gaze wandered down towards my stomach, realizing it had not changed one bit since his departure some months ago.

"I… am sorry," I whispered, but he shook his head.

"Don't be. It just means we get to try again," he said smiling before suddenly kissing me.

His brashness made me laugh with joy. For so long, I had been gloomy and sad and tense, but now it all fell off me like stones in an avalanche.

"Are you trying right now," I jested.

His fingers began to tamper with the lacing of my bodice. "Would you mind?"

"The King is expecting us in the council room tonight!"

"Tonight," Philipp returned and kissed me again. "Plenty of time for a man to celebrate that he is still alive and blessed with a beautiful young wife, don't you think?"

I couldn't help but smile and nod slightly. "Beautiful, you say?"

"Ravishing," he replied between kisses as he undid my lacing. "And even more so without all these layers of cloth."

Well, as it turned out, he was right. Being with him without all the layers separating us was indeed… ravishing, but a lady wouldn't go into detail, would she?

Instead, I would tell you more important things, namely of how I spoke with my father that night, and how I played out cards I had kept in my hand for a year. There was a council meeting that night led by Cromwell, and it briefly informed the King about everything that had happened to England in his absence, most importantly the successful disbandment of the Pilgrimage of Grace. Much to my surprise (and delight), Cromwell emphasized the part I had played in the peaceful solution of this dire matter. To any other man, it would seem he had sung my praise, but I would remain wary. My father, on the other hand, was angry at first, and satisfied after that. My handling of the situation seemed to please him. In the end, when the courtiers left one by one, I turned to him and asked for a private audience.

"Today, sweetheart?"

I nodded. "I'm afraid the matter cannot be delayed… and it is for your ears only, Your Majesty."

He looked at my husband, who had only been allowed to his council this very day, and there was something apologetic to his look. As is he was sorry to send him away so soon… Had he begun to see a true son in Philipp? I pondered the question as I watched him leave. I didn't mean to exclude him, not after the passion we'd shared today, but I had to. This was my business and mine alone.

"Tell me then, sweet daughter, what is so important that you keep me from my bed?"

"I have received a letter," I carefully began.

Henry frowned. "A letter? That is why you asked me to stay? Mary, I am weary, I am tired. I may be your lord and king, but I am a mortal man, too. I am in dire need of rest."

"Father, I assure you that you'll want to hear this. The letter was sent to me by Mother Mary Agnes, prioress of the Abbey of Saint Adelaide in Berkshire. She… Father, she says there is a woman in her priory who claims to be the Queen of England."

He hesitated. I could see the wishful thinking in his eyes, it was plain to see, but he shrugged it away.

"Mary, sweetling… there are madwomen everywhere…"

"No, no! Father, listen, please! From what Mother Mary Agnes has written, this woman knows so much. At first, she was confused and malnourished, but once they had brought her back to health, she remembered. She knows about you and me and Edward and Elizabeth. She knows things… from the day these men… took us… things… Father, only the Queen could know it. I…"

"When?" He asked and rose. Suddenly, he yelled at me impatiently. "When did that prioress write to you?"

"Two days ago," I said flinching. Feigning despair, I dropped to my knees before him. "I read it and read it all over again, and I trembled. Please, Father, help me. I so wish it to be true, for the Queen to be alive, and to return to my brother and sister! Please, I don't know what to do!"

So many emotions. His face was like a whirlwind, I was unable to read him. Whatever was going on in his mind, I assume even Henry didn't know for sure.

"Do you believe her?"

"Mother Mary Agnes? Yes. Everything she wrote speaks of truth. It… what if it is the Queen? What if God has rewarded us? Father, please…"

He reached out a hand to me. "We'll go there. Tomorrow, just you and I. We'll not speak of it to anyone. I'll leave Philipp as my regent, and we'll see for ourselves."

"Yes," I returned, taking his hand. "Father, I… how can I sleep knowing what is to come? How can I sleep when all I want is pray?"

"Go back to your husband. He is a good man, your Philipp, and I know he'll take care of you. Tell him… tell him the truth. He'll comfort you if he knows what is good for him. Seek comfort in the arms of your husband, child, and pray that I may be reconciled with the wife I… I…"

I rose to my feet, and in an unprecedented display of impropriety, hugged him without permission. Fortunately, Henry didn't object.

"I'll pray to God that he'll be merciful. Only once. It's the only thing I'll ever ask of him," I whispered.

"I know, child. Get some sleep," Henry returned before kissing my forehead.

When I left, I felt guilty for playing with his emotions. Of course I had been doing so for months, perhaps even a year now, but at this very moment, it made me tremble. I had put him through hell. I had made him believe his wife was dead, killed by those who thought it would serve his desires. I had made him feel guilty beyond measure. And now, I would torment him one more night.

Please, I prayed. If there is a god, make him see reason after this. Make him the man he has to be.

"You seem worried, wife," Philipp received me as I returned to our apartments.

I nodded and closed the door behind me. For a second, I considered lying to him, but then I didn't see a justified reason to do so. I needed allies, not more lies.

"My stepmother might still be alive," I returned.

He raised an eyebrow and himself from the bed. "That is… unexpected."

"The King and I will leave on the morrow to… see for ourselves whether it is true or not. He said that he'll leave you in charge. Tell me, what exactly has happened in Europe? He seems so… taken with you."

"With me?" Philipp laughed. "With you, I'd say! There wasn't a day when your royal father would not speak about your virtues and excellence. It seems he cannot praise you enough. If I didn't know you, I'd think him a liar, but I have caught a glimpse of your abilities myself."

"You're flattering me," I returned sarcastically. "Why?"

"In order to resume where we left off this afternoon, of course," Philipp said smiling. "Other than that, I'd also only be stating the truth. You are a remarkable woman."

"But you do not love me."

I don't know where that came from, honestly! Philipp, too, seemed to be taken by surprise.

"I am intrigued by you, wife. Is that not enough, given that we've known each other for such little time?"

"I… guess it is. Please excuse my behaviour, I was speaking out of turn. The thought of Anne… of the Queen being still alive, of seeing my siblings happy again… of knowing that my father and you are back… it is too much for one day alone."

Philipp came towards me and pulled me in a hug. It wasn't as desperate or sensual as the one this afternoon had been, but it was exactly what I needed.

Exactly what I hadn't received from George Boleyn, a nagging voice in my head said.

"There is nothing to excuse. Go with your father and find out, and when you come back, we'll speak again. I have waited decades to be happy, I can wait another few days."

I looked up, surprised by his words. "Are you happy with me?"

"I suppose I could be," Philipp said smiling. "If we were given a chance."

"In a few days," I nodded. Part of me wished it was true. Part of me felt like it would never be.

The next day, King Henry and I left for Berkshire. We didn't speak any unnecessary words during our travel. No talk about war achievements, or about the Pilgrimage, or even the blossoming father-son-relationship between him and Philipp. Nothing. Both of us dreaded and anticipated our arrival at St. Adelaide's. Of course I knew what to expect, but as with Anne's feigned death, I was curious to see the execution of her resurrection. As it turned out, George had outdone himself.

My father barely listened to a word the Mother Prioress said, and when she led us to the cell in which the presumed queen was housed, he seemed more anxious than ever before. He almost didn't muster the courage to knock, but when he looked at me and I smiled, he did. A soft voice allowed him in.

What happened next I'll never forget.

I had anticipated this moment every day since the day I had come up with the plot to feign Anne's death. I had played it out in my mind, every single possibility, and I had always know it just wouldn't be like that. In the end, it was beautifully simple. Anne, clothed in a linen robe that resembled rags, rose from her chair and turned to face the door. She was pale and thin, but there was no mistaking her, not for me or anyone. Certainly not for Henry. When he saw her, he let out a cry that didn't sound human. She smiled the most awkward of smiles, suppressing her tears.

They rushed towards each other like magnets, embracing with a passion Philipp and I would never muster. Whatever it was they shared, it was a force of nature, I decided there and then. They cried, snivelled, and wept tears of joy. Everything else ceased to exist, even me and the nuns.

It was then that I knew I had been right. Whatever I had been forced to do in order to bring about this situation, it had been worth it. Without me, Anne would have been dead. George would have been dead. Henry would have never realized just how much he loved his wife, and how much he respected his former wife, my mother. He would have abandoned me and killed all the pilgrims. He would have married Jane Seymour, a woman happy to ignore the fact that her brothers had killed the King's children in the womb.

I had paid a high price, but it had been worth every pain.

What happened after is but a blur to my memory. I remember we returned to London with Anne in secrecy, and that we brought her back and informed my father's councillors first. I remember the surprise in Cromwell's eyes, the guilt and the relief. I remember praying that it would teach him a lesson, and that he would never interfere with my family again. I remember seeing Chapuys's sour face and also how I told him to rejoice at this miracle. I remember seeing Edward and Elizabeth return to court and hug their mother as they had never done before.

I remember the feast my father threw in his Queen's honour, and how for the first time, the English people honestly and truly cheered for their Queen. I remember my mother, whom Henry had invited for this occasion, and how she smiled at me. She had made her peace with it, I realized, and I loved the fact that she did. And I remember Philipp, the man I had chosen to be my husband, who would hover over me the entire night.

"So much happiness," he whispered into my ear as we danced during Anne's feast. "I wonder if they could even bear more happiness."

I smiled back at him. "Have you planned any surprises that I should know of?"

"Not as of yet, but I was wondering how the King would take to a grandson bearing his name," Philipp returned. "Would you mind?"

It was charming. It was reasonable. And yet, that very moment, I realized I didn't want a child. That I'd been happy not to be pregnant, to still be myself, and to dabble in politics as I pleased. In the future, perhaps I would like a child, but not now. But I could never say the truth.

"Not at all," I lied. It was the first and only lie I would ever tell Philipp.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 – In which something broke and something was mended**

"Look at them, smiling and laughing and rejoicing. This is what we worked for. Here's to us!"

Anne Stanhope raised her cup to toast me, and I returned the gesture.

"To us," I smiled.

We stood in the great hall of Hampton Court watching the merriment of feasting. It was the third such feast my father had decided to bestow on his court since the return of his Queen in May 1537. Somehow, it seemed, he could not celebrate their reunion enough. I had laughed and danced with courtiers and nobles long enough now, so Anne and I had retreated for a small private talk. And wasn't it a beautiful chance that we happened to stand in the same spot where I had offered her my friendship years ago?

"I trust you are happily settled into your new life, then? We haven't had much of a decent conversation as of lately," I asked Anne.

She refilled her cup nodding. "Of course, and I appreciate your concern. I did not expect much of your precious time, now with the Queen returned. And your husband, too. I hope not to disrespect you in my bluntness but you must know everyone is watching you for… a sign."

"No offense taken," I assured her smiling. "Coming from you, it even sounds unusually sugar-coated. And yes, thank you, I am well aware they're all waiting for my pregnancy."

Anne laughed darkly. "Well, if you'd prefer the blunter version of me, allow me to offer my wisdom. Any troubles in the marital bed that you need help with?"

"What, no?!"

Now she laughed even more. "I made a joke at your expense."

"Oh, and what about you? The time of mourning is over. Have you no mind to remarry and have more children? You know the offer still stands. I'll protect their futures."

"I have no doubt about it," Anne assured me, now more serious in her demeanour. "And I have considered it, but not yet. You see… there are some distractions that are not easily obtained once you're married. Certain… fruits are forbidden."

"Are they, now?" I suddenly found myself speaking the way I had with my friends in my real life – funny, insinuating, honest. Modern. And weirdly, Anne didn't seem to mind at all. "Tell me, your forbidden fruit… it doesn't just so happen to be a certain Sir Francis?"

Anne's serious composure cracked for a moment as her eyes widened at my words. She pushed me back a step, away from prying eyes, and hushed her voice.

"How do you know?"

I smiled. "I consider it my business to know things."

"Yes, but how could it be common knowledge? We were so careful."

Actually, of course, I hadn't know, I had only assumed by what I knew about her. Many of the things from the show and history seemed to come true in this world, sometimes even those that I had tried to prevent. Why not that? So, actually, my guess had been just that – a guess. But I would keep up the pretence of my omniscience. And because it felt so good, I would even push my luck further. If they had hooked up as they had in the show, maybe they also had…

"You call a secret tryst behind curtains careful?"

Anne's eyes grew even wider. I smiled again and gently patted her shoulder.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't worry, all your secrets are safe with me, as they have always been. That was our agreement, was it not?"

"Yes, but imagine what happens if somebody knew, I…"

"No one knows," I assured her sternly. "No one but me. I told you – all I am, all my actions, all my power derive directly from the knowledge I possess. If I didn't know as much as I do, I wouldn't be where I am, and neither would you."

"I wouldn't… ah, forgive me. I was acting out of turn," she said and tried to regain her calmness. "I was only worried about my daughter's future. I wouldn't want her to be called the daughter of a traitor and a whore."

"You could never be a whore." Somehow, even though I had been living in this world for years now, hearing her belittle her own sexuality made me angry. Where I came from, women did no longer have to apologize for enjoying sex. And if I had anything to say, at least Anne wouldn't have to, either. "Enjoying a man's embrace does not make you a whore, Anne. It makes you whole, just as it does the men. I trust you to be discreet and careful, and if you get in trouble, be sure to let me know. We have killed and resurrected a queen, we can also make sure your reputation stays untouched."

Saying the last bit was dangerous, I know, but I simply trusted that no one was close enough to overhear us.

"Yes, we have. And I think we outdid ourselves, you and I and your secret companion. Who, by the way, seems to be enjoying himself a little too much. You might want to talk to him," she said.

Now I was the dumbfounded one, for she pointed towards George Boleyn.

"You… knew it was him?"

Anne sipped on her wine. "Not initially, no. But I am not blind, I saw how well you worked together during your regency. There must be some secret understanding between you, so either he's your accomplice or your lover. You're too clever for the latter, so… you still might want to talk to him. His behaviour is bordering on frivolousness."

I marvelled at her reasoning, but only for a second before realizing she was right. George was obviously deep into his cups, and the way he stood while speaking to Mark Smeaton did appear… close. Dangerously close. He'd get himself killed if rumours started to spread. Damn, why was everyone so keen on making my life difficult?

I apologized to Anne and went over to the two men. When Smeaton saw me, he sank into a deep bow. It was well expected of him, a mere commoner, to pay me the highest respects. George didn't seem to notice at first and continued to talk. He was clearly more than just tipsy.

"Lord Boleyn, Master Smeaton. I trust you are enjoying the night?"

"Certainly so, Your Highness. Though our evening is even more joyful now that you grace us with your shining presence," Smeaton tried to charm me.

I smiled. "Thank you for your sweet words, Master Smeaton. If you think so highly of me, maybe you would like to compose a little tune for me to play? It has been so long since I practiced my lute skills in earnest. I hear you're a master of many instruments, so…?"

"Ah, yes, music. Such a beautiful thing," George interjected in a somewhat bitter voice.

"Of course," Smeaton eagerly replied, ignoring George's comment. "I should be more than honoured!"

"Wonderful. See to it that you speak to my head lady-in-waiting, Cecily, to find an appropriate time. Now, if you do not mind, I would like to borrow my dear uncle for a moment."

"Not at all," Smeaton assured me smiling, bowed and left us.

George continued to drink as if I wasn't there.

"You shouldn't be doing that," I hissed in a toned-down voice.

He made a strange sound that sounded like a dry laugh of irony. "Doing what? Drinking? Standing? Breathing?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Now I was the one trying to push him back, away from curious ears, but he just stood still as a rock. He resisted, and to push him openly would be more than unseemly.

"No, I do not," he returned rather angrily. "Tell me, mighty Princess, what it is that bothers you so. Is it my presence? I'll be gone before you know."

"No, it isn't. Good Lord, what is it with you? This is a feast, a happy occasion. The Queen is returned to us, we have won the war. You have no reason to be so… or is it your wife?"

George angrily furrowed his brows. "I have no wife. I'm a free man. I'm George Boleyn, the Queen's brother, I am like a damned god around here. I can do whatever I wish. Isn't it so?"

"Unfortunately, no," I said sighing, realizing now that he was on some path of self-destruction. "George, please, for all the friendship that has been between us, for the family bonds that link us… snap out of it. Whatever ails you so… it's not worth it. Isn't worth risking your life."

"My life? Hah, with what?"

"Fooling around with Smeaton," I gave back bluntly. "I saw it plainly, and others did as well. People will start to talk."

He grabbed a jug and tried to refill his cup. "Well, let them talk!"

"It's sodomy," I spat, trying to take the jug away from it. "For God's sake, don't you see it might put your head on a block?"

"Oh, is that what you've seen in your 'dark visions' that you would never truthfully speak about? My head on a block?"

"Yes, it was!," I returned, perhaps a little too loud. Some people looked over to us, but I smiled and waved their curiosity away. In the meantime however, George had managed to refill his cup and down it in one go.

"And Jane? Did you also see that? Did you see her death and chose not to warn me?"

I lowered my gaze and my down. "I… I dreamt of her death, yes, but not like this."

"What then? Tell me. Tell me! For once, just once, I demand the goddamn truth!"

He was angry. He was drunk. But he was also right. I had trusted him more than almost anyone else in this world, and I had answers he craved for. Perhaps he needed this, painful though it was. Perhaps it could give him closure.

"She was executed as a traitor, but only after she went mad. And she… she accused you of incest and sodomy. She got you, Anne, Smeaton and many others killed. As traitors. On a block. In shame, booed by a cheering crowd."

I could see that he believed me, and I could also see that my words had hit him harder than my fists would have ever been able to. He put down his cup.

"Thank you."

It was all he said before he left, no other word, no goodbye, nothing.

Two days later, the King informed me that George had left the country. He wanted to oversee our troops stationed on the continent, and my father had happily agreed to have a trustworthy general, not knowing that George was probably just trying to get himself killed. But when I heard about it, it was already too late.

He would most likely find a way to end his life faraway, and it would be my fault. I was miserable. I wrote letters to my European friends, asking them to watch out for my uncle, but I didn't expect to make a difference. Fate, it appeared, was working as it wished again. It had killed Jane Boleyn, why should it spare her husband?

On the other hand, fate was also willing to surprise me. In July, my mother suddenly appeared in my apartments, with no announcement that she was to come to court. After my initial surprise had ceased and she was seated next to the window with me, I curiously inquired after her reasons for being here.

"The King has summoned me," she said, much to my surprise. "I have no knowledge of what he wishes to speak about, but I do not doubt it has to do with his wife's rebirth."

The rebirth – that's what people had begun to call Queen Anne's miraculous reappearance. That my mother would use the term, however, quite surprised me.

"But I consider it a gift of God, for it permits me speaking to you again, mi hija. How beautiful and grown up you are now," she said smiling, touching my hair. "They all sing your praise in the streets. England's princess, they call you. The peacemaker, the lady regent. I cannot find the words to say how happy it makes me to see you in your position. It is where you should be, by right. You have the blood of kings."

"I am happy as well. Only I hope I can do justice to all the faith people seem to have in me."

"I have no doubt you shall never disappoint them. You are the granddaughter of Isabella of Castille, after all. You have a warrior's heart," Catherine assured me. "Now, sweetheart, I shall return to you after I have spoken to the King. Only I wanted so much to see you, even if only for a brief moment. Now, I shall see what your father has to say for himself."

I grinned at her words. "Don't be too hard on him. He's the King, after all."

"He is," she returned, grinning as well.

As I watched her leave, I realized I was dying to know what they would be speaking about. Why had my father called her to court without telling me? What was he up to? I continued my daily chores with my ladies, but couldn't concentrate on a single stitch. It took me only a quarter of an hour to give up and tell the girls I would be talking a walk with Cecily. Then, after we had safely made it away from my apartments, I told Cecily that I had to go somewhere on my own. She didn't ask questions. She never did.

I sneaked away, through the halls which I knew by heart, towards the king's chambers. Not to the main entrance, of course – the private passage. His guardsman tried to block me from entering, informing me that the King was having an audience, but I wouldn't have it.

"I know," I whispered. "He is talking to my mother. Please, I must hear it."

"Princess, if the King finds out…"

I smiled, trying to persuade him. "He won't. I have done it many times before. Have you not heard I'm the most well-informed person at court?"

Apparently he had. He nodded, albeit hesitantly, and allowed me to slip into the little room right next to my father's council room. It was here he himself would sometimes linger to watch his councillors when they thought themselves safely alone. Now I would use it to spy on my own parents. Childish? Dangerous? Unseemly? Yes, yes, and yes. But necessary for me all the same.

"…wish I could say that."

It was my mother's voice, followed by a long pause.

"But I have to offer Your Majesty my sincerest thanks for your treatment of our daughter."

"Yes," my father returned. "She is the most beloved."

"I have never wished so much for anything else. She is my world, and God's gift to you," my mother agreed.

"I know that. And I know… Catherine," my father said gravely and paused. "In the past years, I have had time to contemplate. I have watched our daughter laugh and cry, I have watched her take the reins of power and a man's hand in marriage. And I know that you are right about her, more than you could ever know."

"So you do understand she was meant to be queen?"

My mother's bluntness never ceased to amaze! I held my breath, curiously awaiting my father's response.

"I never doubted it. In my heart, I knew she possessed the best of us, though she is not intemperate… as we are," my father said. I marvelled at his words. "Catherine, we… I know we had something. We must have had, else God wouldn't have given us Mary. I wanted to apologize to you for how it ended. That's why I called you here."

I certainly hadn't seen that coming!

"And before you speak, since you are always so quick with your words, allow me to explain. I won't say it was a mistake, for clearly God is pleased with my new marriage. Even you must admit he worked a miracle to bring Anne back."

My mother made a sound, but without seeing her face, it didn't make sense to me.

"He has blessed my marriage with a son… but he also blessed you and I. He gave us many happy years, and he gave us Mary. It was for her sake we once made peace, it is for the sake of the love that once was between us that I would now like to honour you."

Silence.

"I would like to bestow Kensington House on you, along with the title Marquess of Kensington. By right, it will pass through you to our daughter and her offspring. If you please, you could put down the habit and live the life of a rich widow, or you could retain your ties to the church and use the estate for charitable work. I would put it to you."

Silence again.

"What say you?"

"I… why are you doing this, Henry?"

She had never spoken to him this personally since their divorce.

"For you," he returned in a warm voice that made me shiver. "God has been so kind to me these past months. I think he is offering me a chance to make amends. I would use it, if it pleases you. Say yes, Catherine."

"I have found church life eerily comforting," she said. "But I feel that, for all the years God will still allow me to breathe, I could do more. For others. Change things, as my daughter does. She has inspired so many people with her words and deeds, do you know that? The Lady of England, they're calling her."

"So I've heard."

"You ought to be proud of her."

"I am. Fiercely proud. But this is not about her, this is about you and I. Will you accept my offer?"

"I will, given that it also includes permission to come to court if I should wish to do so. I do not know how long I still have on earth, but I should love to hold my first grandchild."

My father laughed, or rather, he loudly smiled. "You shall. Consider it a royal promise."

"Then I accept and ask your leave. I would like to tell my daughter, with your permission."

"Our daughter," my father reminded her in a cheeky voice. "Do not be detained by me. Tell her the good news. Let it be known that we are finally at peace, and a happy family."

I heard a door being opened and wanted to run back to my chambers, but then I heard my mother's voice again. What she said, I wouldn't have want to miss in the world, since it led to the most curious of responses. What she said was this:

"Thank you, Henry. For everything. And forgive me if I must insist that for this, you will always have a place in my heart. I will always love you."

And what he said was this, the ultimate confession – and the ultimate way to finally, truthfully, honestly bring an end to the turmoil of their relationship: "And I you, in a way."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29 – In which I both won and lost**

I expected to wake up any moment now. What I had wagered the demon I would do, I had now done, had I not? I had found a peaceful and forgiving end for Henry and Catherine. I had preserved Henry's longed-for son. I had saved his relationship with Anne. I had strengthened England's power and reputation abroad. I had averted a major religious crisis in England. My job was done, was it not? I had set out to give England a better future, to make the major players happier – had it not been done?

But I didn't wake up. I was Mary, Princess of England, still, no matter what happened. Slowly, I began to wonder whether I might have bet too high. Would I really remain here for the rest of Mary's lifespan? Even if I died as the original Mary had, that would mean another 15 years or so of continuous struggle. I wasn't sure I wanted that.

On the other hand, I also wasn't sure I wanted to go. It was no longer just a project for me – no, it had become my reality long ago. Henry VIII no longer was a fat man in pictures, he WAS my father. And I loved him. Him and my mother and my siblings and many more. Part of me wanted back into my real life, but part of me also felt that this was my life now. I felt torn.

About as torn, I presume, as my dear cousin and namesake Mary of Austria, regent of the Netherlands, did. You might remember how much she had complained to me about the situation in the Low Countries and how utterly alone my cousin the Emperor left her. True, our joint intervention in the Italian wars had brought prestige to both Mary and England, earning her a few much needed coins from her brother, but he had left it at that. The Dutch were ever insubordinate and recalcitrant, making Mary's situation worse by the day. It was also no hidden truth that her subjects received aid from their neighbours in Northern France, who were all too happy to spite the Emperor.

In short, something had to happen if Mary wasn't to face outright rebellion, and it had to be done fast. Her pleading letters had begun to come each week now, and despite all my troubles at home I felt compelled to aid her. The only feasible option, however, was to put an end to French support for the rebellious Dutch merchants, and that was nigh impossible without the French king's help. Getting him and Mary to work together would be even more impossible. Can you say that? More impossible? Well, that's how I felt about it.

I had taken my stepmother, the Queen, into confidence, explaining to her the situation and why we were needed. Anne, of course, was still on good terms with King Francis. Having recently signed the peace treaty with my cousin, Francis was no longer officially at odds with the House of Habsburg. Anne's charm would be enough to sway him in favour of at least listening to our demands. It fell to me to convince Mary of such an alliance, which was certainly more difficult. It took me letter after letter urging her to listen to reason and look past her burning hatred for the Ottomans. Yes, they had killed her beloved husband, but Francis was no longer their ally, I told her. He had forsaken their friendship when he had signed the treaty. He was her brother-in-law through her sister Eleanor, after all. And wasn't the fact that the Turks continued to raid along the Mediterranean without French help proof enough of the fact that the Franco-Ottoman alliance was broken?

In the end, she reluctantly agreed to meet with Francis, but only if certain requirements were met. One was that they would meet neither on Valois nor Habsburg ground. She wanted the safety of neutrality, which Queen Anne and I were glad to offer in the shape of Calais. It was an English city, after all, located conveniently between France and the Netherlands. Her second demand was that an armed English envoy oversee their discussions.

The Queen and I put it to my father, and after a short moment of deliberation, he agreed.

"It is a good opportunity for us to enforce our position as defenders of peace in Europe. I'll send an envoy as well as a few select noble men. Suffolk could go, don't you agree?"

"Yes, my love. And perhaps also my father, who knows Francis so well from when he was your ambassador to the French court," the Queen replied.

"Agreed. Your father is a fine choice."

"I would like to go," I suddenly blurted out.

They both looked at me in disbelief. I expected my father's ranting any second, to hear him say how much he needed me here and that it was men's business and such, but there was only silence. He and the Queen exchanged glances. Then, much to my surprise, he nodded.

"A wise idea, sweetheart. You'll show them gentleness and Tudor fierceness at the same time. It is about time that the kings of Europe see the bride they missed out on."

I couldn't agree more. So in autumn 1537, I set sail once again for the continent, although the passage through the English Channel was rather short and unspectacular. What would follow, however, was spectacular. Historical, even.

Mary, regent of the Netherlands, and Francis, King of France, met at Calais to discuss their alliance and cooperation. Suffolk was the official leader of the English envoy appointed to guard the meeting, but as a member of the royal family, I outranked him. It fell to me to act as hostess to both the French and Dutch guests.

"Your Highness, it is a great pleasure to see you again after such a long time," my cousin Mary greeted me as she entered the reception hall of the Calais palace designed to host the summit. "And might I state that I was more than pleased to hear that you were, above all, to attend this meeting?"

"Cousin," I returned smiling and embraced her. "I am just as pleased as you are. Ever since my gracious father, the King, allowed me to join our envoy, I have been praying that my presence will help ensure the beneficial outcome of this gathering."

"I am sure it will. There is no other I would rather have beside me when I face that… the King of France." Her last words were almost hushed.

I nodded. "But please keep in mind that I am a defender of peace in this first and foremost, for to be such I was commanded by my noble lord father. I am here to facilitate an advantageous friendship between you and King Francis."

It wasn't the answer she had expected, but she seemed to accept it nonetheless. She had no other choice, anyway, for the herald was already announcing the French ambassadors and their king. Mary and her servants stepped aside to make way for our second guest. I straightened my shoulders and tried to recall the farewell words of Her Majesty, Queen Anne.

"Never lose composure, whatever the French may do or say. They make a habit out of blindsiding their opponents, only to take them off guard. Politeness and smiles are your weapons. That is how you survive the French."

Politeness and smiles, I recanted in my head. Politeness and smiles.

Francis seemed older than I had expected, but he had tried his best to appear the ever charming young king he had once been. As he strode towards me, clad in crimson and gold, a smug grin on his face, I knew he wouldn't be easily subdued.

"Your Highness," he said with a smile, hinting at a bow before me.

I put on the kindest smile I could muster. "Votre Majesté," I returned, surprised by the ease with which the French flew from my lips. In my real life, I had always scraped against the minimum requirements of my French classes, but Mary's tongue had been excellently trained. "Je suis ravie de faire connaissance avec vous. J'ai pris mon mal en patience pour ce moment."

He laughed, and then he clapped his hands looking at his retinue. "Magnifique, Princesse Marie. Votre maitrise de français est impressionnante. But I have been told that this was to be a summit hosted by the English, non? In which case I would gladly offer to forsake my beloved mother's tongue for a given time."

"Your Majesty is far too kind," I said accepting his proposal. "May I introduce you to Her Imperial Highness, Archduchess Mary, who is, I believe, also your sister-in-law."

Mary stepped forward. You could see the discomfort she felt about this moment in her every movement, but she complied nonetheless. Francis, on the other hand, seemed far more comfortable.

"Ah, another charming Princess Mary for me to meet. Madame, it is my pleasure."

Mary allowed him to pretend a kiss on her hand, but the way she did it was more than just stiff. I shot her a dunning glance.

"The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty. I think it is high time we were introduced."

"Indeed so. I should call you sister, should I not," Francis joked, but apparently, his lightness was lost on Mary. She looked as gloomy as she had before.

"You might, yet I wonder why you have not brought my sister with you," she all but shot back.

Francis' smile died down.

My mind rang alarm. Do something, quickly! "Your Majesty must be exhausted from the journey. I have taken liberties to have the finest rooms prepared for you as well as a light supper. We may dine together tonight, and begin our negotiations on the morrow. Would that be convenient to you?"

Francis slowly turned his gaze away from Mary. His smile slowly returned as he looked at me.

"I am very grateful for Your Highness' consideration. I shall see the ladies come nightfall, then. Allons y!"

I sighed very deeply as I watched him and his French courtiers leave. Mary, still standing by my side, clearly overheard me.

"He's as much a spoiled upstart as my sister told me," she hissed. "How can I ever make peace with a man who doesn't even consider bringing my dear sister with him, if only as a sign of goodwill?"

"We'll find a way," I simply retorted. Mary repaid me with a puzzled look. "Cousin, I asked you here because you need this treaty. Not me. You. If you want my help, you'll have to accept certain things that you won't like. The absence of Queen Eleanor will be the least of them. Tell me now if you are unwilling to proceed, so I may find a suitable way to tell King Francis without making this a political disaster."

Mary opened and closed her mouth. She looked at me in bewilderment. Then, finally, she shook her head.

"I'll see you at dinner," I then said and beckoned the English servants to guide the Dutch envoys to their rooms. Mary left without saying another word.

Had I been harsh? She was my cousin and friend, yes, but I didn't think she would benefit from me sugar-coating the truth. Her position was difficult and she needed French support. If she allowed her pert emotions to rule these discussions, they would be doomed from the start. I could only hope I would be able to keep her anger in check as well as Francis's ego.

Perhaps I should have never come in the first place, I thought that day.

Perhaps I should have never come in the first place, I thought as we sat and had dinner that night.

Perhaps I should have never come in the first place, I thought as our talks commenced the other day. It took Mary only one hour of conversation before snapping at Francis.

Perhaps I should have never come in the first place, I thought on any other of the following three days.

I fought hard to keep matters peaceful and friendly, and while we made good progress despite Mary's animosity and Francis's cockiness, I couldn't say the same for myself. My health seemed to decline with every passing day. I had headaches the first day we started to speak. I lost my appetite on the second day. On the fourth day, I emptied my stomach right after breaking my fast. It was then that I had to admit something was genuinely wrong.

So I summoned my cousin to my chambers after breakfast.

"I need your help," I told Mary nonchalantly. "Surely you have a physician in your retinue?"

"Of course I do. Why do you ask? Is there something amiss?"

"I fear for my health. Headaches and ill bowel movements… I feel like all my power is drained from me, and I do not like it one bit. It would not do me well for King Francis to see my weakness."

Mary nodded. "I understand, of course. But why not ask your fellow Englishmen for help? You must have brought able physicians as well."

"We do, but they are also answerable to my Lord Suffolk, who is my uncle by marriage. Were he to know that something was amiss with my health, he would surely send me home by the first tide. I have no wish to go… I just need some concoctions."

"Cousin, I… may I be so bold as to as you whether it might not be an illness after all?"

"You may. I have also considered the possibility of being pregnant, although I had some bleedings only a while ago. Alas, I cannot be sure of anything. Which is why I turned to you for help, for I know you would not betray my trust. And whatever the outcome of this examination, I would like a friend close by."

She smiled, for the first time since she had met King Francis. Then she assured me she would do just that. And, what can I say? She stuck to her word. She brought a physician, Dr Fell, and swore him to secrecy. Then she dismissed everyone except him from my chambers, and stayed with me as he examined me from head to toe. It was no pleasing experience, I can assure you – modern medicine was far more in accordance with my tastes. But what was I to do? I had no medical knowledge beyond seven seasons of watching House, MD. If I didn't have any special kind of lupus, the physician might be actually better suited to diagnose me.

When he finished, Dr Fell was approached by my cousin, and they hastily exchanged a few words in muttered voices, trying to make sure I didn't overhear them. Mary's gaze however told me that something was truly wrong. My heart began to beat faster.

Then she came to the bed I had been lying on and gave me an apologetic look.

"Out with it," I said rather harshly, unwilling to allow her any more pitiful glances.

Mary flinched for a moment, but then she nodded. "Dr Fell says you were indeed with child."

It took me a second, then I understood. I only repeated one word: "Were."

"Unfortunately so, yes. He said you must have lost it a day or so ago. Second month, perhaps. You couldn't have been further along, else you would have clearly noticed yourself. But you should not pin the blame on yourself. Dr Fell assured me that it happens quite frequently, especially in young women before their first child."

I nodded slowly. Of course I knew that. Hell, I probably knew more about pregnancies and childbirth than that damn doctor! But to grasp the fact that it had now happened to me… there is this weird notion that bad things only happen to others. Yes, many women lose unborn children before the end of the first trimester, even in modern times, and some will never notice that it has happened. I knew that. I just hadn't expected it to happen to me.

"Your Highness has no cause for worry or concern," the doctor himself now assured me in his heavily accented English. "I see no impediment for you carrying a child to term. It has mere pleased God to call this one away so soon."

"Thank you, Dr Fell," I said monotonously. "I'll see to it that you receive payment for your services."

"I'll cover the expenses. Dr Fell is in my employ, cousin, and should anyone ask, he examined me, not you."

I nodded again. "Thank you."

She smiled ever so kindly

Looking back from what I know now, I believe that this situation had a big impact not only on me, but Mary as well. She had never been granted the chance of being a mother, but somehow, it appears, she had hoped for me to be one. For me to have what she didn't have, a loving and living husband and a happy family. Now that this dream had been shattered, if only for the moment, she seemed to pity me and more. All of a sudden, Mary became overly protective of me.

The next day when we convened with Francis, she would not yell or scream. Whenever she got angry, she looked to me, and apparently remembered there were greater plights than hers right now. I can only assume all this, of course, but her actions seem to prove my theory.

Three days later, a deal was finally struck. In retrospect, I sometimes feel my child had died for this historic document to be born. Of course, it was no fair trade, nor was it actually true. Still, it somehow lessens the grief I feel about this loss when I delude myself into thinking I at least got something in return. That there was a plan behind all this.

I don't think there is a plan, though, nor ever was. Not even my plans were perfect, I realized as I sailed back to England after the summit was over.

Such high hopes I had had, and even though many had played out well, others had not. My brother Michael had died. The Seymours had conspired to kill my stepmother and siblings. Jane Boleyn was dead, and the whereabouts of her husband were unknown. I had received conflicting messages about him – some rumours claimed that he had dealt a decisive blow to the Turks on Malta, while another claimed he had fallen in battle somewhere in Greece, and one sailor swore he had seen George drinking himself into a stupor in a Sicilian harbour tavern.

But the worst of all my failures, I now realized, was my marriage plan. I had laid it out so carefully, weighing the pros and cons of any possible candidate. I had allowed myself to be swayed by the prospect of marrying a battle-seasoned general, and of the sweet romance between Mary and Philipp in the TV series. Perhaps it had been true in real history as well, if we had met later. But now…

As I stood on the ship watching the English shores draw closer, I dreaded the second I would see Philipp again. I would have to tell him about the babe – our child – that had been lost from my womb. He would comfort me, perhaps, or blame me for the loss. I didn't know. But what was even worse – I didn't care. As I approached the English coast, I realized that my marriage to Philipp had been a good plan so long as one of my two most fundamental assumptions held true – that either we would eventually fall in love, or that I could be medieval pragmatist enough to accept a marriage of convenience.

Now, I realized, none of these things were true. I liked Philipp, but I didn't love him. There was no spark, no fire, no passion… and I also realized I didn't want to try anymore. That being stuck in a marriage of convenience made me feel hollow. That I was being childish and selfish and stubborn… but thinking of Philipp's face when I told him about our dead child didn't cause any disturbance in my heart. It didn't touch me. Not as the death of my brother Michael had. Not as the betrayal of Chapuys had. Not as the proud smiles of my father had. Not as the rumours about George's death had.

As I set foot back on English soil, I realized I may have won my political matters in Europe, but lost my wit there all the same. I was married to a man I wouldn't love, but whom I had chosen precisely because he would suit the needs I had in politics. What could I do now?

For the first time since I entered this world, I had literally no idea.

I was lost.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 – In which I received important news**

"You'll ride north with me."

My father's tone was light as he said these words. It wasn't necessarily a command, though I would have no chance to object anyway.

North, of course, meant riding to York. During Christmastide 1537, we had received missives from certain northern noblemen as well as some mayors officially asking royal pardon for their part in the Pilgrimage of Grace. The King and his council had discussed the matter, and the King had also discussed it with his most trusted family members – Queen Anne, me, and his son-in-law. We had all agreed to forgive their trespassing, but make a show of force at the same time. The King himself would go north and speak to them in person, reminding them of their duties as his subjects.

"And the Queen?"

My father shook his head. "The Queen and I have agreed that she should stay at court to oversee the preparations for Edward's birthday celebrations. We've only got a month left, and I wouldn't want any expense spared for my special boy."

"Of course not," I said, not without smiling. Over the past months, ever since I had returned from Calais in my brooding mood, Edward and Elizabeth had been my greatest delight. "To think that he'll be three years already…"

"And a fine lad of three at that." My father laughed beaming with pride. "I receive promising reports from Hatfield every week. Lady Bryan assures me that Edward is a bright boy, and well behaved."

I smiled. "What about Elizabeth?"

"Oh, she is every bit you sister," Henry returned winking. "Wilful, headstrong, but also excellent at music and languages. With any luck, she'll make a fine marriage such as you and become an asset to England one day as well."

Ouch, I thought. Praised and cursed in the same sentence! Of course it pleased me to hear my father sing my praise, especially in light of what real Henry would have said about his daughter in early 1538. Accepted back into his arms, but only after she had disgraced herself. I wasn't like that. Still, the mention of my marriage hurt.

My father couldn't know, of course. Nobody knew. Philipp and I were careful to keep up the pretence of our marriage, and to appear gentle before court wasn't exactly hard, either. I did like him, after all, and respected him more than most. Having a man like him on the King's inner circle of trusted people was good. Sleeping in the same bed, however, wasn't.

"I'm sorry to hear it."

Those had been his words when had told him about my miscarriage. I think he might have wanted to say more, but he couldn't, and neither could I. Both of us were clearly pained by this knowledge, but we couldn't seem to find a way of working it out. Instead, we both drowned ourselves in work, in courtly endeavours, and in caring for our family.

By Christmas, I had been convinced that Philipp had found a mistress, and to my surprise, it didn't bother me. In a way, I felt relieved that his happiness no longer depended on me. I was willing to accept the fact that I would be miserable in this marriage, since I did it for England. But Philipp was a decent man, a friend, and I didn't wish for his unhappiness. To know that he must have found someone gave me a measure of happiness as well.

That is, as long as I could avoid thinking about the inevitable day when my father found out. Even though having a mistress was Philipp's right, I was sure my father would not look kindly upon it. Not when his beloved daughter was the one spurned. (Which was rather ironic, given the fact that for himself, he always considered having mistresses a God-given right…)

"When are we to leave for York, Father?"

"Two days hence. I'll have a route drawn up for our progress, so that we shall stay with select noble houses. Surely I can expect you to present yourself as the charming princess you are?"

I curtseyed. "Your Majesty can trust me to charm each and every one of them, if it pleases you."

"Aye, it does. Pack your prettiest gowns, dear girl. We want to make a lasting impression on our northern subjects. Let them not forget who they owe allegiance to, and whom they owe thanks for their salvation. Without you, I'd have them all cropped by the neck."

His words made me laugh and put me in a cheeky mood. "You Majesty the strict and firm ruler, and I the fair maiden asking for your mercy?"

"Speak not loudly of this, you little minx," he returned, equally as cheeky. "Now go, and be sure to pay your stepmother respects before we leave. She requested your council on some of the designs for Edward's feast."

"I'll do so without delay, Your Majesty."

Two days later, we began our progress through England. It was as fascinating as it was tiresome. Entertaining our hosts, being charming and conversational, keeping in check my father's changing moods… but on the other hand, seeing places I had never seen before, meeting real down-to-earth English people – it was exciting. And it wasn't just everyday nobles and peasants we met. I also had at least one encounter with destiny when my father and I came to visit Snape Castle.

I had been completely unaware of the significance of this place until its Lord and his wife were introduced to me. They were Lord Latimer and Lady Catherine Parr.

A weird tension began to boil inside my stomach as I watched my father speak to her. Could it be that fate had led us here? Could he know that in another life, he would one day wish to marry her? Could she know? After dinner, the ailing Lord Latimer soon excused himself, leaving us in the company of his eldest son and his wife. I watched in unease as my father and Lady Parr began a game of cards, laughing casually as if they were old friends.

"Please no…" I found myself whispering.

"Are you unwell, Your Highness?" It was Sir John, Latimer's only son.

I blinked twice before regaining my composure. "No, not at all. Thank you for your kind consideration, my Lord."

"I am no lord, nor shall I ever be, I guess," he commented rather dryly, though his brash honesty made me think he must have been drunk. "My father shall see to it."

"I beg your pardon?"

Now I looked at the man, nay, boy, for that is what he was – he couldn't have been more than eighteen, at the most.

"My father likes me not. He likes her, his precious daughter," John explained, pointing towards a girl of about twelve or thirteen years. "He considers her more fit to inherit his lands and titles, I know it. And his beloved wife would do nothing to change his mind. Is it not a sin against God to think a daughter should rule before a son?"

I raised an eyebrow. The boy was either drunk or mad to speak to me like that. Or puberty had hit him really hard.

"It is hardly a matter for you to put to me," I reprimanded him and went over to the table where my father and Cate Parr were playing. "Lady Latimer… Father."

"Ah, Mary, I'm glad you've come. It would appear the lady of the house does not know she is honour-bound to let her King win," my father say cheerfully.

"Yes, she ought to know better," I agreed. "Would you mind lending the lady to me for a moment, Your Majesty? I have a… womanly need that I would wish to discuss with her."

"Of course. It might just save my purse and spare me the humiliating defeat."

Cate Parr smiled as she put down the cards, either oblivious to my father's joyful flirting or appreciating it. She followed me away from the table, probably expecting me to ask a kindness of her. Instead, I put on my serious face once we were alone.

"I wish to advise you to speak with your stepson. His behaviour is rather unbecoming."

Her smile vanished. "Has he insulted Your Highness? I do beg your forgiveness, but he is uncouth youth at times. I find him sulking in his rooms far too often."

"Then you had better act swiftly and decisively, Lady Latimer, before it is too late. He is already accusing your husband of denying him his inheritance, and of preferring his daughter over him."

"No," Cate gasped.

"Do you take me for a liar?"

"Forgive me, Your Highness, it was a lapse of the tongue. I had no mind to presume… I… Please forgive John's lack of decorum. I'll make sure he retreats to his rooms immediately."

I watched her leave, wondering whether my interference was called for. The Latimer family problems were really none of my business, but then who was to say that we had not come here on purpose? History had linked Cate Parr's life to that of my father, and apparently it was dead set on connecting them in this life also. I knew real life Cate had suffered much, being forced into one loveless marriage after the other, and that she probably hadn't loved my father either. On the other hand, I had seen her laughing and playing with him. Was it because I had changed Henry for the better, or because she genuinely liked him? And if she did, how would I keep her from being drawn into the dangerous maelstrom of court?

Another trouble I had to concern myself with. As if I didn't have enough.

The rest of our progress, however, went rather smooth. Our meeting with the commons of York much reminded me of a scene from the series, when the mayor of one borough had apologized for the uprising to the king and Mary had delivered a speech. I tried hard to remember her words and be just as inspiring. Did I succeed? I can't remember, for something else happened that day, something more profound and life-changing.

"Sweetling, we have received news from the capital," my father began as he called me into his chambers that evening. "Your stepmother is well as can be expected, and the preparations are coming along well, too. The Queen writes to me that we have also received a letter from your cousin, the Emperor, thanking us for our peaceful interference on his sister's behalf. It appears our plans are coming to fruition."

"Praise the Lord," I exhaled.

"There is more. It is with great joy that Her Majesty has come by news from her dear brother, Lord Rochford."

Now, he had my attention. "He lives?"

"What, did you doubt it?" My father laughed. "Of course he lives. He has defeated the Turks near Venice. A shattering blow he has dealt them, or so our Italian friends report. He is currently being housed by the Doge of Venice himself, who appears to be quite grateful for his salvation by an English army. Do you see what it means, Mary? We are the harbingers of peace for any Christian monarch in Europe now. Hah! Let the Pope declare us heretics now, when the princes of Europe come flocking to us for guidance and protection!"

"Benedictus deus." I dropped to my knees and kissed the ring on his right hand. "The Lord smiles upon England."

"He does indeed. And do not be tempted to think I would forget your role in all of this, daughter. I know you as England's pearl and I shall reward you in time."

"Majesty, there is no need…"

He firmly shook his head and beckoned me to rise again. "Her Majesty has informed me that he brother has written to her and named you as the one who inspired his endeavours and victory. Apparently, your uncle values your counsel as much as I do. He has even penned a letter to you, no doubt to thank you and promise you a Venetian brooch should he ever return."

"A letter, for me?," I hesitated to ask.

My father handed me a sealed piece of parchment. I took it with trembling hands, still unable to believe that my actions had not gotten George killed. Then, as the last of my father's words sunk in, I raised my gaze away from the letter.

"Forgive me, but what do you mean by saying 'should he ever return'? Is he not to come back to court once he has sipped on the Doge's gratitude?"

"Alas, your uncle is as hot-headed as your dear stepmother. He intends to drive the Turks back to Bosporus, and for that reason, he shall not return in a long time. Anne was most inconvenienced to hear so."

I nodded absent-mindedly. For now, all my thoughts were dancing around one thing alone – the words in that damned letter in my hands. I counted the seconds until my father gave me leave to return to my own chambers, where I quickly dismissed my two ladies and ripped open the letter's seal.

 _To Her Highness, the Princess Mary,_

 _It is with great discomfort that I write these lines, for I know all too well how untoward my behaviour towards your gracious Highness has been before my departure. Blinded by grief and anger, I did not take your kind words for the good council they were. For this, and everything else, I owe you an apology. It is thanks to your intervention that I continue to draw breath, and knowing what I know now, I am more than grateful for it. I have no mind to return to England again so soon, for there is still much I must do before I am recovered, but I shall include you in my prayers nonetheless. And if I ever return, I hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive my wrath and accept me once again as your loyal servant and friend._

 _Written by him who, like you, has never sought anything else but to serve the realm to the best of his abilities,_

 _George Boleyn_

His lines made me smile. Cry, even. He was no longer mad at me for… well, everything that had gone wrong. And it also seemed like he was no longer dead-set on getting himself killed in some skirmish. There was still hope that he would not end up one of my casualties. Rarely have I ever felt more relief than I did that moment.

It didn't last long, however. My happiness never seems to last long.

At first, I didn't see it coming, for when my father and I returned from York, we were warmly received by Anne, Elizabeth and Edward. She had already taken the children to court a while before Edward's great day, and I was just as pleased with it as was my father. My little siblings gave me the sweet, unconditional love that my marriage so sorely lacked. It almost made me forget about the whole matter, made me think that maybe there was still a chance for Philipp and I…

Delusional thoughts! Philipp and I were political allies, and good ones at that, but we were not lovers. Looking at his smile while we celebrated Edward's third birthday, I couldn't help but pity the fact that we had not fallen in love. He could be so charming, so funny, and so witty as well. But whenever I looked at him, there was no – well, no spark. I didn't tremble. I wanted to hug him, but not kiss him. To laugh him, but not love him. I had tried hard to talk myself into it, but during the banquet for Edward's birthday, I suddenly realized that it was in vain. I loved him not, and I couldn't coerce myself into it. There was no use. And I would have to act, now that I had accepted this fact. I couldn't keep up this charade for the rest of my life. At the very least, I would have to talk to him about it.

On a rainy day in March 1538, a few nights after Edward's feast, I waited for him in our chambers.

"Philipp, I… I think we ought to speak about our marriage," I began.

"I was thinking the same." His usual smile was lacking. "I'm afraid there is something I must tell you."

Uh-oh, I thought, but tried my very best not to show. Politeness and smiles, I told myself. If it worked with the French, why not with Philipp?

"Tell me, then."

"There must be…" He rubbed his neck, pacing up and down while looking for the right words. "Well, I do not see how to put this…"

I grumbled a little. "You've taken a mistress."

Philipp stopped his steps. "I wanted to tell you…"

"You promised to tell me before I found out through gossip," I reminded him.

He looked a little frightened. "Is there any gossip?"

"None that I would know of, but that is not to say I did not come to this conclusion myself. I am neither blind nor foolish."

"No, you certainly aren't, and I admire these qualities in you. I have been wanting to tell you… well, for a while now, but she urged me not to. She fears your wrath."

I suppressed a laugh. "Wrath? Why? Was our marriage not one of convenience? What reason should I have to be vengeful when all you do is exercise your right?"

A little passive-aggressive tone was mixing into my voice, and I couldn't help it. I meant my words – and at the same time, I didn't. Was I jealous or indifferent? I couldn't tell.

"Yes, but well, we also had our agreement to be honest with each other. I should have come clean sooner, and now, I fear, it is far too late."

"Don't trouble yourself, Philipp. No one has heard of it yet, and I shall not speak about it to anyone, much less the King, if that is what you fear. I know how much his admiration for you has grown over the past year. Surely, he would not be pleased to hear about… this."

"I know," he pressed out.

"But I assure you, I shan't tell him."

He was rubbing his neck again. "Excellent. But… it is beside the point. I… we… are still in trouble."

"Of that I am aware, but as long as we continue as we do now, we shall be fine. Now that we both know that we still cherish each other's honesty, we can go on with our plans for a better future. Our goals have not changed, have they?"

"No, they haven't. But still, please, I must implore you to listen to me. There is more that we must… that I must tell you about."

I shrugged. "What more could there be?"

"She begged me not to tell you, but I can't… I can't live a lie, Mary, not when I hold you in my highest esteem, and have promised to protect and support you. Even if the truth incurs your wrath, then so be it, for it is my fault. Still I ask you to be furious with me, not the lady. She…"

He stopped. I drummed the fingers of my left hand into my right arm. My patience was running thin.

"What is it with her? What is so important that you cannot speak of it?"

Foolish, foolish little me. I should have known better than to ask such a question!

Philipp cleared his throat. "It would appear… I'm sorry to say, but it seems I have gotten her with child. She is pregnant."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31 – In which I left**

„HOW – COULD – YOU?"

I had tried my very best to remain calm after the revelation that my husband had taken a mistress, but this – that he would have a child with her when we had just lost ours – that was too much. My Tudor temper got the better of me.

"Why? I mean, I… you… you promised me! You promised to be honest and truthful! You promised to be my friend! Do your oaths mean so little to you that you would betray me for, for what? A pretty face? A warm embrace? You swore to be loyal to me! You promised… and did I not keep my promises? Did I not give you everything? I did everything I said and more! I brought you to this court, I set you up in Their Majesties high esteem! Your titles and lands you owe to me! To me! Have you forgotten all that fawning over a smile? Didn't you for just one second pause and think about what it would do to me, to me? I trusted you! I trusted you more than almost anyone else, I took you for my friend! And now this…"

I could have gone on ranting for forever, I guess, but I was interrupted.

"I am sorry."

"Sorry? There is no sorry for this," I yelled spinning around. "You betrayed my trust! You put me in the most uncomfortable of positions, and you did so only to satisfy your own selfish needs. You were my friend! You betrayed me! And did I not offer you that, whenever you would be tempted to betray me, I would give you more than them? Alas, well, I guess I couldn't offer you love and a child. Too bad."

"Please…" Her voice was but a whisper.

I stared down at Anne, kneeling in front of me, her skirts already dirty from robbing on her knees. I had never seen her like this, nor had I ever wanted to. But right now, it was what I needed to see. I desired to see her to grovel before me. The hateful urge to see her pay had risen in my heart as soon as Philipp's words had led me to the conclusion just who his mistress was. Someone who feared my wrath. Someone who knew me. Someone who knew just how much betrayal disgusted me.

Anne Stanhope.

"Please what? Forgive you for betraying me? For allowing my husband to give you a child when I have just lost mine?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No, please, I had no idea. You didn't tell me…"

"And you didn't ask," I snapped back at her. "Ever since I returned from Calais, you have been too busy fornicating with my damn husband to care for me! As you should have! What kind of agreement, what kind of friendship is this we have? I gave you everything!"

"Please allow me to speak. I didn't mean to harm you…"

"Oh, but you did," I said darkly. "How am I to clean up this mess you've made? Don't you see you're making a laughing stock out of me? Of my family? My father wanted to divorce my mother because of her barrenness – what will people now say of me? Oh, look at the barren princess, her husband can have babes aplenty, just not with her! Is this what you wanted?"

"No! It was never meant to happen!"

"But it did."

I took in a sharp breath, trying to calm my nerves. Somehow, being betrayed by her stung more than Philipp's betrayal. I had expected him to find a mistress sooner or later. But I had not expected Anne, who had become such a close confidante over time, to stab my back. I felt clueless and stupid and left in the dark. It was a painful feeling.

"You may leave, Lady Stanhope," I said coldly.

Anne, stern as ever, refused to get up. "What will you do about it?"

"What I will do? I'll keep my promises, that's what I shall do. You may not think it worthwhile to uphold vows, but I do."

"Punish me, please," she interrupted, stumbling forward to touch the seam of my skirts. It was a well-known gesture – a subject asking for their sovereign's mercy. "Punish me in any way you see fit, but I beg you not to take it out on Philipp. It wasn't his fault, he resisted so much, I swear. It was me, me all along, I seduced him."

"Please, Lady Stanhope, do not make a fool of yourself. We both know you are a consummate actress and a proficient liar. He has admitted to me how and when it started, and unlike you, he has no ability for deception. No, I know full well that both of you are to blame equally. It takes two to make a child."

She bit her lip. "Still, I beg you not to punish him."

"Is that what you think of me? That I'll lash out on him, or you, or your unborn babe even? Do you think so lowly of me?" I sighed in disgust. "If that be the case, I am glad I am no longer subject to the deception that you were my friend."

"I am…" She began to protest, but probably realized mid-sentence that her actions had rendered her claim incredulous. "Please forgive me."

"This is not the time to beg my forgiveness. You should rather beg me to clear up the mess you've made, for if this becomes public knowledge, it'll create a scandal as big as an avalanche. Go now, Lady Stanhope, for I intend to keep my promises. I'll find a way out of this, but rest assured that I am not doing it for your sake."

She wanted to object, I could see it plainly written on her face. However, her reason must have kicked in, and so she nodded meekly and rose to comply with my orders and leave me. I haughtily watched her go and waited until I was sure she was out of reach.

Then, I began to cry.

A day later, after not sleeping or eating much, I finally mustered the courage to confront my father. I found him in his council room brooding over some papers. He smiled when he saw me enter, but his face soon turned dark when he realized my serious mood.

"Mary, sweetheart. Are you unwell?"

"Majesty, I am here to receive a token of your wisdom, and to ask a favour."

He gestured towards the chairs. "Come then, and sit with me. No need to be so formal."

I straightened my shoulders and sat down quietly.

"So, what is it that you need?"

"Would you promise me something before I begin? Would you allow me to finish what I have in mind to say?"

He frowned at me. "Mary, what is it? You look worried."

"Promise to hear me out," I implored him again until he nodded. Then, I drew a deep breath and came out with the words I dreaded so much: "You are the head of the Church of England, are you not? As such, it is well within your rights to judge the state of marriages. And in your capacity as head of the Church… I ask you to grant me an annulment."

To say his eyes popped out of his sockets would be an understatement.

"What?!"

"Please, Father, you promised you'd listen…"

He basically jumped off his chair. "No, Mary, no! What is this? What happened that you… what has he done to you? I swear to you, I will…"

"Please!" My voice was high-pitched and desperate by now. "Please listen."

Henry clenched his fist, but didn't continue yelling. I took it as a sign I could continue.

"I ask you for this in order to avoid a scandal. My husband, he… he has taken a mistress and gotten her with child."

"That bastard!"

I could see the veins pulsing in his temples.

"It is well within his rights, Father, and you know it."

"Ohhhhh, no! He's not married to some washerwoman to do with as he pleases, he's married to a princess!"

"You took mistresses when you were married to queens," I couldn't help but admonish him.

Oh, boy, was he angry now!

"THAT IS NOT THE SAME!"

I flinched at the volume in his voice, and somehow, my obvious fear of him seemed to hit a nerve. That or the fact that I was actually close to crying.

"Mary, no, darling. Please, I didn't mean to yell," he suddenly changed into a soothing voice and knelt before me. "I'll make it alright again, I promise."

I nodded. "I've thought about it, Father… and this is the only way. Please grant us an annulment."

"On what grounds?" He didn't sound convinced.

"I don't know! Say that one of us was pre-contracted, that the marriage wasn't consummated, or whatever you wish! Just end this marriage before it produces a scandal."

"A scandal? You should not worry yourself about these things, my sweet, you are not to blame."

I sniffed. "Oh, but they will blame me! They'll mock me everywhere as a barren, useless wife whose husband has to seek others out to have offspring. I'll be the laughingstock of Europe!"

"No, no," my father said, gently patting my hair. "I'll make that damn bastard pay, him and his whore, I swear."

"No!" I pushed him back. "Please, Father, don't you see that you'd be dragging the matter into the open then? I would be tarnished in front of everyone! Please, accept my plea and annul the marriage. Have him marry his mistress, banish them from court if you must, but please…"

Henry's voice rose again. "Marry his mistress? You would reward these swines for what they did to you?"

"It's not a reward, it's our only way out," I tried to convince him. "You need Philipp. We need him and his troops, we cannot send him into exile or behead him or anything. And I don't want to be shamed before court! Just set up an ecclesiastical court and find my marriage invalid! Then, you'll annul it, and as a means to pacify Philipp and keep him beholden to you, you'll offer him another English bride. You'll send them to his estates for their nuptials. No one will know what transpired, no one will know it's a banishment. We'll all get to keep our faces."

"You can't be serious, child," he muttered. Then, something in his face changed. "You're forgiving them, aren't you? After all this bastard of a husband has done to you, you're still trying to protect him from my righteous wrath. Oh Mary…"

"No, I'm trying to protect us!"

"Mary, Mary," Henry whispered and kissed me on the forehead. "You worry yourself so much for the cares of others. You are the milk of human kindness. They don't deserve you."

"Please, don't shame me by making it public. I beg you… papa!"

The last word seemed to have done the trick. I had not called him that in years, and by doing it now, I appealed to his most basic instinct of fatherhood – wanting to protect his little girl. Henry reached out and embraced me. Emotions overwhelmed me and I began to cry.

"Mary… oh, my poor sweet lady," Henry whispered. "My poor, poor child."

"Papa, please…"

"Of course, my girl, if it means so much to you, I'll do it. But do not expect me to pretend that I am sorry towards that bastard German duke. He is banished from court henceforth, and he can stay in the country so long as we have no more wars upcoming. And he should be twice glad about it, for I would have happily chopped off his head and served it to his wench."

I sniffed a few times more, trying not to comment his last words. Then I looked him in the eyes.

"My sweet pearl…"

"Let it be done, please. And when it is over, will you allow me to leave court?"

He frowned again. "No. Why would you? You need to be surrounded by those that love you. By your family."

"I know. But please… I would like to go to Kensington. May I please?"

"Well, then… yes, you may. Girls need their mothers, don't they? I am sure the Marquess will comfort you."

I smiled and embraced him again. "Thank you, papa. Thank you for everything."

"You have no need to thank me, Mary. I'll set things right for you. You'll come out of this unscathed, I promise. And when it is done, I swear to you I'll find a better husband for you. One who would never dare to look at any others, one who is absolutely and utterly besotted by you. Hell, the next man who wishes for your hand will have to throw himself before me, weeping that he would rather die than to be apart from you another day!"

His words made me chuckle, even though the situation was tense. Henry returned the smile and kissed my forehead once more.

"My pearl…"

I am a person who sticks to her words. I promised Philipp happiness and lands in England, and that he got and would retain. I promised Anne that none of her children would ever lack anything. By marrying Philipp, she would gain that. They would both gain more than they should have ever had the right to hope for, and they would forever be indebted to me. The price they had paid for it, however, was high: they had lost the King's approval and my trust. Only time could tell whether it had been worth it.

As soon as my father had set his mind on the matter, everything went fast. A court gathered and came to the pitiful conclusion that I had, unfortunately, been pre-contracted to a son of King Francis. No doubt, the French ambassador received a nice little pension for confirming this claim. Then, Cromwell officially informed Philipp that unfortunately, his marriage to me had never been lawful, and that we were living in sin. But His Majesty, Cromwell said, was grief-struck by the news and offered Philipp the hand of a noble English lady as a means to keep him in England, for he had grown so fond of Philipp. A cheap charade, it was, but the court seemed to buy it. Philipp gracefully accepted to wed a widowed countess whose fertility was already proven and retire to the countryside with her.

I didn't say goodbye to either of them. Actually, during these tumultuous days, I barely spoke much to anyone. I just waited for it all to be over so I could leave this dreadful place. Finally, in May 1538, I entered a carriage and rode it to Kensington. My mother, of course, had been informed beforehand that I would visit, but I couldn't be sure she already knew of everything that had happened.

When I saw her worried face as I left the carriage, however, I knew that she knew. She opened her arms wide and embraced me tightly.

"My Mary…"

"Mama," I whispered. "Can I stay with you for a while?"


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32 – In which I rose like a phoenix from the flames**

It was a lovely day in August when my peace and serenity at Kensington were finally interrupted for good. For the past few months, I had managed to severe my ties with court as much as possible, retreating from the prying eyes of public to the safety of my mother's embrace. Childish? Perhaps yes, but it was just what I needed for my heart to heal. The whole nasty affair of my annulment pained me more than I was willing to admit. It wasn't exactly the fact that I had been cheated on that troubled me. The fact that I had not seen it all coming was much more painful, but worst of all was Anne's betrayal. I had truly come to accept her as a friend, and that she would act behind my back like this…

But alas, I wouldn't be able to retreat forever, I realized sitting on a balcony of my mother's estate that day in August. A carriage was quickly approaching, and possessing the keen eyes that I did, I was able to discern the coat-of-arms. Richmond and Somerset.

Like buzzing bees, my mother's servants hustled towards the carriage and properly received the young woman emerging from it. I closed the book I had been reading and went inside.

"Sweetling, there's a guest come for you," I heard my mother say from across the room.

"I've seen her carriage. It's the Duchess of Richmond, isn't it?"

My mother frowned. You could see she still disliked my father's bastard, and thus, his wife.

"Should we send her away?"

Putting away the book, I shook my head. "Oh, there's no need. Lady Mary is a sweet girl who surely means no harm. I consider her a sister."

"She's a Howard, married to an elevated bastard. She is by no means equal to you."

I shot my mother a glance meaning "will you please stop lecturing me on how important I am?", then smiled. "She may not be, but she is my loyal servant. I have nothing to fear from her."

With these words, I went down to receive Mary. She seemed nervous and pale, but when she saw me, her face lightened up.

"Your Highness!"

"Lady Mary," I returned and embraced her. "Such a surprise. Come, let us sit outside. You must be yearning for fresh air after your carriage ride. Come, come, and tell me what brings you here. Is everything alright with the Duke?"

Mary followed me hesitantly, shying away from my mother's servants. "I, um… forgive me, but actually, the Duke has been unwell for quite some time. He does send you his love and devotion, however."

"Unwell?" I frowned. "His lungs again?"

"I'm afraid so. The physicians you sent are doing their utmost, though."

I offered Mary a seat and sighed inwardly. Apparently, I was only buying time for my half-brother. His health should have failed him a year ago, and whatever I tried to protect him would not work forever.

"If there is anything I can do to help…?"

Mary shook her head. "No, thank you so much, Your Highness. You have already done more than could be expected, and my husband is very grateful for your support. It is not why I have come."

"Oh? Then why did you come, sister?"

She blushed at my words. "I, um… the King sent me."

Now, my face turned dark again. The King. Was he finally mad at me for replying to his letters by one-liners only? For refusing to return to that snake pit he called court? I crossed my arms in front of my chest and gestured towards Mary to continue.

"His Majesty, um… he wishes to inquire after your health and wellbeing."

"I am very well. The countryside is quite becoming."

"And His Majesty said that, um… well, would you not return to court?"

"His Majesty has already received an answer to that."

Was I being harsh? Probably. But I just couldn't muster the courage to face all the people at court after what had happened. Not yet.

"His Majesty expected as much," Mary nodded demurely. "But he asked me to implore you to visit Hatfield at least. The Queen, he says, receives pitiful reports about your siblings, the Prince and Princess. They ask for their sister."

Oh, well played, Henry! My father, that sly old fox, would always try to get what he wanted. And now he'd sent me one of the few people he could be sure I wouldn't turn away immediately, a sweet and kind soul like Mary Fitzroy, and had her plead with me on behalf of Edward and Elizabeth. No doubt he thought that once I had been reunited with my siblings, I would also wish to return to him.

"It is well within His Majesty's rights to remind me of my duties towards Edward and Elizabeth. And I thank you heartily for conveying this message. Please stay here for the day, Lady Mary, and when you return to court tomorrow, tell His Majesty that I shall comply to his wishes. I'll ride for Hatfield within the week."

Mary smiled sweetly, visibly relieved at the thought of returning with an accomplished mission. She certainly was no one to easily endure my father's wrath or disappointment. I, on the other hand, had learned to handle it, and would not return to court until I felt like doing it. But my siblings, I would visit. My father was right about that, and I told my mother just that once Lady Mary had left.

She seemed to accept my reasoning. "Will you be gone for long?"

"Two or three days, I assume," I replied. "But in all honesty, I think you should accompany me, Mother."

I had expected her to look surprised. Catherine of Aragon, going to see the children of her great rival?

"Mary… I know you mean well, but…"

"They should get to know you," I interrupted her. "Sooner or later, they will know you. Elizabeth is of an age to ask questions now. She has already asked me about my mama, and why it wasn't the same person as her mama. She and Edward deserve to know you, and you them."

"I think it unwise," Catherine protested.

"You do? Would you rather wait until you're eventually presented at court? At a time when venomous snakes have already poured lies into their ears about you? Whatever bad blood there was between you and Father, between you and the Queen is surely now a thing of the past. I think we should keep it that way. I think it wise to show Edward and Elizabeth who you are, and that you are not their enemy or they yours. Do not allow others to act in your stead."

She looked at me quietly, clearly not knowing what to say.

"Please, do it for me. And who knows, you might just see them for the sweet little children they are, not the vile demon offspring Chapuys painted them to be."

"The words you use… demon offspring… I never said anything of the like!"

"No, but you might be tempted to think so. But they are children, they're my siblings, and I love them. I only wish you would see why."

Catherine sighed, then nodded. "If it means so much to you, mi hija."

A day later, we departed for Hatfield. During our journey, my mother was eerily silent, and I understood why. Joining me to see the children of Anne Boleyn troubled her soul and conscience. She wanted to hate them, needed to hate them, but she also knew they were innocent of anything that their parents might have done. And then, there would also be jealousy… that she had never given my father a son, but Anne had. Still, I felt this meeting would be beneficial for her. It had to be.

Lady Bryan received us with much decorum and led us to a parlour. The prince and princess would soon be here to welcome us, she said. I could feel my mother's anxiety rising. Finally, the door was opened.

"His Highness, Prince Edward of Wales, and Her Highness, Princess Elizabeth," Lady Bryan announced.

I saw my mother's eyes twitch. Then, a young, fiery red-head princess entered the room and curtseyed sweetly, followed by a three-year-old boy who looked just too adorable in his fancy clothing. He clung to Lady Bryan's hand coyly, looking at the visitors with big eyes. His elder sister, though, wasn't just as shy. After she had curtseyed, her eyes lit up.

"Mary!"

Her little legs carried her to me faster than light. She threw herself at me, and I caught her laughing.

"Elizabeth, my Elizabeth," I replied, hugging her tightly. Then I looked at her brother, who was being led towards me by Lady Bryan. "And Edward, my sweet baby brother."

He smiled shyly as I extended an arm and offered to hug him as well. He stumbled forward, opening up his arms, and I embraced him just as tightly. For a second, we remained like that, and I fought hard to keep back tears. Their unconditional love was so sweet, so pure… so soothing for my troubled mind.

Then, I noticed my mother looking at us, and Elizabeth noticed her at well.

"Who is she," Elizabeth whispered into my ear.

I let go off my siblings. "She is Lady Catherine, Marquess of Kensington. Please say hello to her."

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and curtseyed again. "Your Ladyship."

My mother was both surprised and moved by Elizabeth's display of courtesy, and so she curtseyed in return. "Your Highness."

Beaming proudly at my sister, I patted her hair. "Well done, Elizabeth. Now, you should know that I have brought the Marquess here for a very special reason. You have asked me again and again about my mama. And now here she is, eager to meet you."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "She's your mama?"

I nodded, still holding Edward in my arms, who seemed to be afraid of the stranger in the room.

"I am honoured to meet you, then," Elizabeth finally addressed my mother.

Catherine now seemed even more surprised, but she couldn't help but smile. "The honour is all mine, Your Highness."

Elizabeth smiled. "Mary gave me a lute last Christmas, and I've been learning how to play. Would you like to hear?"

My mother looked at her, looked at me, then looked at Elizabeth again. Then, I guess, her natural motherly instincts kicked in.

"I would be delighted to hear you play."

In the end, we spent two entire days at Hatfield. Elizabeth, that sweet and clever young girl, proved to be the charm I had hoped she would. She played the lute for Catherine, and she learned some Spanish with her in the gardens, and one evening, we sat together stitching and she received some valuable advice from my mother on how to sew.

But in the end, I think, it was Edward who won my mother over. The boy she had never had and whom she actively tried to avoid during our stay… until he fell. He ran behind me in the gardens on our second day, laughing and carefree, and then he stumbled and fell. It was no catastrophe, just a bloody knee, but of course he cried in despair. None of the servants rushing to his side seemed to be helpful, until finally a resolute voice soared above their hustle and pushed them away.

My mother picked up the crying boy, sat him on her lap, and began to clean his knee with a wet cloth. She whispered some words to him, words that no one else could hear, but within a few heartbeats, he had stopped crying.

After she had finished, Edward refused to walk back into the house if she would not hold his hand. My mother complied. No other words would ever be needed.

When the time came for us to leave Hatfield again, both my mother and I tightly hugged the children.

"Will you come again and visit," Elizabeth wanted to know.

"Of course," I promised. "And we'll all meet again for Christmas at the latest."

"What about my birthday? It's in two weeks' time!"

"If it pleases Your Highness, we shall come," I suddenly heard my mother say. "But allow us enough time to find a proper present."

"Of course," Elizabeth replied laconically. "And then you'll teach me more Spanish?"

"Only if your stitching has improved," my mother returned strictly.

It was a jest, I knew, but Elizabeth was too young to understand the irony, and she nodded fiercely. "I will, I promise!"

"Then be good, and take care of your brother. Listen to the Lady Bryan."

Elizabeth nodded again, and so did Edward. He was still too shy to talk much, but he waved at us and then hid behind Lady Bryan's skirts. Everyone was smiling as we entered the carriage. I looked out the window as we left, watching how Elizabeth waved at us frantically in a manner most unfit for a princess. She was happy, who could blame her? As I turned around again and looked at my mother's face, I realized she was happy, too. We didn't need to talk about it, for both of us understood what these two days meant for us.

A few days later, my mother simply said "thank you", and that was it. We would never speak about her supposed disdain for my siblings again.

Summer was slowly passing, and with it the pain I felt. Seeing Edward and Elizabeth had been like a healing balm, and staying with my mother also helped tremendously. Still, I didn't feel like returning to court. Whatever for? All these lies and machinations, all the fighting and struggling… I felt like there was nothing positive left. Of course, I was wrong, but it took some time for me to see it. In fact, it took a letter to change everything.

"Mary, there's news from London," my mother informed me some time in autumn. "Letters and parcels have been delivered this morning."

"From the King?"

Catherine nodded. "Indeed. I did not yet have the heart to open them. Would you know the reason for this?"

"No, but I will know once I've read his letter," I returned. There was no merit in trying to avoid my father if he sent me such official papers.

I ripped open his seal and began to read. My eyes hopped over the lines, accelerating their pace as the true meaning of the words dawned upon me. With every passing line, my eyes began to fill more and more with tears.

"Mary? Sweet, what is it?"

"We've won," I gasped, re-reading the line to make sure I had not been mistaken. "We've won!"

My mother seemed dumbfounded. "Won?"

"Yes, Mother! Won! The Holy League has won against the Turks! The Ottomans were beaten decisively, their unholy leader Barbarossa driven into the sea! And it was our English ships, led by Sir George Boleyn, who won the day! We are the heroes of Europe, the defenders of Christian faith!"

"By God!" Now, my mother joined in my tearful happiness and embraced me.

"The King calls me to court for the celebration of this most joyous event. He says we'll receive the heroes of Preveza in four weeks' time, with banquets and jousts and parades through the streets. This is the greatest victory England has won since Agincourt!"

"The Lord is good," my mother agreed. "And certainly, you must return to court now. Whatever your worries, no one will dare to whisper about you now."

"No, certainly not. Not when we have heroes to celebrate. Oh, and Father also wishes to invite you, if you so will, he writes. He would be 'delighted to have you join in our glory', as he puts it."

"Then I must obey."

I shook my head. "Oh, no, you don't have to, it's not a summons. He makes that very clear."

"Oh, but I must," Catherine assured me. "When you receive the English heroes, all eyes will be on the throne. On the King and his family on the dais. Everyone will see you standing by his side, as rightfully you should, for all of England's recent triumphs have been your doing. I shall not miss seeing you stand there where you belong by right."

"Mother…"

"Come now, sweetling, wipe away your tears. You've been sad for far too long. Return to court, and they will see it's like the sun returning after a long, dark night. They will see you for the shining star you are, and I shall be there to witness it," she said proudly. "Now, let us begin to pack. And I shall send for Mistress Kat, the seamstress. You need to wear something new and elaborate for the ceremony."

There she was again, Catherine the royal, the one with intricate knowledge of the English court. She was happy, I could see it. I would not deny her that.

So in October 1538, I finally returned to London, and I stood by my father and the Queen and my little siblings on the dais. The purple gown my mother had ordered for me was mesmerizing, and even my father seemed stupefied for a second when he saw me like that. I felt every inch the royal princess, and no more like a betrayed wife with no clue at all. Everyone was looking at me, but I no longer cared.

Have them look!

The trumpets cheered. My heart began to beat like a drum. I exchanged glances with my mother, who had received one of the prestigious spots close to the dais, and saw her smile. Then I straightened my shoulders and looked towards the entrance.

Servants came in carrying charred banners, but also coffers filled with silver and gold. Behind them, a small entourage entered, cheered on by the crowd. "Huzzah!" "Our heroes!" "God bless you!" The servants knelt before my father, offering him the spoils of war, and behind them, a very familiar face appeared.

George smiled in that incomparable way only he could, and then he knelt.

"Lord George," my father's booming voice echoed through the hall. "Welcome back to my court!"

Then he opened his arms and took two steps off the dais, pulling George in a warm embrace that should make Uncle Charles worry about who was the King's best friend now.

"Your Majesty," George returned gladly. "And your lovely Queen."

Queen Anne rushed beside her husband. "George!" Then she, too, embraced her brother.

"And, my, can this be my lovely niece, the Princess Elizabeth? Impossible, she is much smaller. It must be an impostor," George joked.

Elizabeth puffed up her cheeks. "No, it is me! Uncle George, it's me!"

"Well, if you say so, it must be true. Come, hug your old uncle, then," he returned.

Everyone was clearly affected by this show of family love and devotion, I could see it in their faces. It was perfect PR for the English monarchy, and just what everyone needed. I began to wonder just how much of it my father had planned. He was not stupid, after all, and had a good sense of his public relations. Hell, even my mother seemed touched, and she had more reason than most to dislike George Boleyn or the Queen!

"And the Princess Mary," George's voice suddenly pulled me from my thoughts. Instinctively, I offered him my hand to place a kiss on. "To see you again is a delight far beyond words."

"I am also pleased to have you back with us, uncle," I found myself replying. "I cannot wait to hear your stories of bravery."

He winked at me, but before he could answer, Elizabeth had already taken him back into her clutches, and I relented. He was back, he was alive, and he was no longer mad at me. We would eventually talk about all that had gone wrong, but I could wait some more hours. In fact, I would have to, for my father was also quite eager to have a piece of George for himself.

To begin with, he surprised even me by having Cromwell begin an impromptu ennoblement. In front of everyone, he granted George a new title for his victories: Duke of Cambridge. I enjoyed seeing the surprise and shock in Thomas Boleyn's eyes, I must admit. Then, of course, a banquet and feast had to ensue, and much wine was drunk that night.

In the end, it took George three days of shaking hands and receiving wine and congratulations before he actually managed to steal away for a while. He came to my apartments, and I received him like the courteous lady I was – with irony.

"Uncle George… or should I say 'Your Grace'?"

He bowed before me. "George is quite enough, if it please Your Highness. Do not make me feel older than I am."

"Oh, but is it no by merit that His Majesty has elevated you? Would you doubt the King's reasoning?"

"Not for a second," he assured me grinning. "May I be so bold and ask for a piece of your time? You wished to hear about my endeavours with the Turks, and what kind of gentleman would I be to refuse my Princess?"

"Not a very decent gentleman, I'm afraid," I returned just as gleefully. "But I fear for the hearts of my ladies. They should not have to listen to such dangerous stories."

My ladies, all hand-picked, understood what I was trying to say. Only Cecily, the one who had been with me from the very first day, remained. George and I both waited until we were sure everyone had left.

"Princess, please allow me to apologize first and foremost."

"There is no need for that," I assured him.

"Oh, but there is! Believe me, I have had so many nights without sleep, nights in which I came to realize just how badly I had treated you when you were, in truth, the only friend I had left."

I shook my head. "Please don't speak like that… I put you into an impossible situation."

"Life put me there. And it wasn't until I met you that I came to realize it," he returned. "Please, you must understand… when you… what happened in the carriage…" He stopped and looked at Cecily, who sat by the door. I nodded, and then he continued. "What happened there did not make me angry at you. You were only the messenger, it wasn't your fault. You simply reminded me of what it felt like… to be accepted. To be understood. To be cherished. She never made me feel that way."

I know he meant his late wife, but I didn't wish to say anything.

"I had tried to tell myself that this was my fate, to be stuck in that nightmare of a marriage, to seek comfort in the arms of others… you shook that belief. And then she died, and I just… I felt horrible."

"George, I am so sorry…"

"No," he shook his head. "None of it was your fault. You tried to help me, and I was too wrapped up in my anger to see it. I tried to punish myself before God by running away and dying in a war. And yet, here I am. Alive. A bloody hero!" He laughed. "Clearly, I have not the faintest idea of what my fate is, according to God. But I know that I do not wish for a life in which you and I are at odds. As I told you so long ago, when we first fought… I am your true and loyal servant."

I fought hard not to cry. Instead, I took his hand into mine and shook my head.

"You are not my servant. If anything, you are my friend. One of the few I have left."

George nodded. "I am… and if there is anything you need… you know, I'm a duke now, I could easily challenge him to a duel…"

Him meaning my former husband, Philipp, of course. I had to laugh at the idea.

"Oh, no, no, there is no need. Please, I am fine."

"Do you… wish to speak about what happened? I heard only rumours."

"Not now, no," I said. "I do not wish to frown about lost friends when I have only just recovered one."

"Then, perhaps, you would actually like to hear about my endeavours? Tales of bravery and heroism, of Venetian palaces, foreign beauties, smelly ships, scurvy sailors…"

I laughed heartily. "Enough, enough! Begin already!"

And that he did. And as he spoke, I vaguely remembered that in real history, the battle of Preveza had been lost for the Holy League, and that none of this would have happened. George would have been long dead, not sitting in front of me spinning his charming tales. He was the living, breathing proof that despite all the woes I had suffered, I was still capable of greatness. Of changing things for the better. He was, in short, just what I needed to get back on my feet.

Brace yourself, England, I thought. Princess Mary is back!


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33 – In which I was elevated**

Things were rapidly going in a genuinely different direction than I had anticipated. I had pictured myself alone with my mother for the holiday season, alone and abandoned by those whom I trusted the most. Instead, I found myself surrounded by family – and a happy family, at that! To be honest, there were moments when I thought I had long since died or was merely dreaming, for some things happened that I had never considered possible. Never. Not in a thousand years.

Want an example?

In early November, after the feasting in honour of our heroes had ended, my little siblings were scheduled to return to Hatfield. Elizabeth, already hinting at the obstinate lady she would one day become, however refused. My father, much to my surprise, was not angry at her behaviour, but amused, while the Queen tried to reason with her daughter and explain to her why she had to go.

"The Lady Bryan cannot look after the two of you here at court. You're too unruly, Elizabeth. She wouldn't want to be responsible for two such whirlwinds."

"The Marquess of Kensington could help," Elizabeth then suggested.

We were all baffled. That a daughter of Anne Boleyn would ask to be placed in the care of Catherine of Aragon – unthinkable. And to make the situation even weirder, my father actually pondered the idea and asked my mother. And you know what? She agreed. Catherine of Aragon, former queen, mighty princess of Spain, agreed to stay at court in order to care for the young children of her great rival, and all just because a little girl asked it of her.

I couldn't believe it. Neither could the Queen.

"What has happened… I know you are capable of working miracles to the untrained eye, but this…" Anne mumbled in my presence.

"As you know, I invited the Marquess to join my visit to Hatfield," I replied. "It would appear the Prince and Princess have made a lasting impression."

"Yes, but this…?"

I sighed. "She never hated them. Not truly. My mother could never hate any child, for they are innocent in the eyes of God. No, if anything, she feared them. Feared seeing them, being seen with them… but you only fear what you don't know." I smiled, thinking about how my mother had picked up the crying little Edward to clean his knee. "Now she knows them."

"I owe you my gratitude, then," Anne returned smiling as well. "Again."

"There is no need to thank me. Elizabeth and Edward, my mother, you, the King… you are my family."

"Still, you could have acted differently. You could have let me die when they were out to kill me, you could have allowed your mother's fear to fester… sometimes, I find myself wondering who you truly are, and why you do the things you do, Princess," the Queen mused. For a second, I feared she had actually seen through me, but then she continued as if nothing had happened. "Then, again, I remember my sister's words when she told me I should reach out to you and find the closest ally I would ever have. I didn't believe her then."

"I hope Your Majesty now knows just how much I would be willing to do for my family."

"I do. And it is for your sake that I will allow the Marquess near my children, for even though my heart wishes not to trust her, my mind says I can trust you. I should have done so long ago, as both my siblings did."

I waved it away. "They were not in your position. They know not what it feels like to carry the burden of royalty. A crown weighs heavier than any yoke, someone once said."

The Queen nodded. With that, it seemed, everything was said, and no other word had to be spoken about my mother's presence at court. People would whisper, of course, but not for long. Rumours of how peaceful and loving the former queen treated the new prince and princess would soon spread as well and silence all critics. For a second, I imagined Chapuys' face when he heard about it, and the mere idea forced me to smile. This wasn't the outcome he would have opted for, but to my mind, it was better than anything he had ever offered. My mother was happy. And very soon, she would be even happier, for a long-held wish of hers was about to come true.

I had not been informed about it beforehand, only after parliament convened. Even though I knew my father well, I still could not foresee his every move. This one, I must admit, took me by surprise. In November, he put a new bill before parliament that was immediately agreed upon. It laid out rules for the succession:

First, and foremost, my father would be succeeded by Prince Edward, and the heirs of his body. Should Edward be a minor upon ascending, a regency council would be established, to be led jointly by the Duke of Suffolk and the then-Dowager Queen Anne.

More surprising, however, was what came next: if Edward was to die without heirs, the crown would pass to Henry VIII's eldest daughter – me. Why was that surprising, you might ask. Well, look at the wording – to me. Not to my male heirs. Me. With a few swift strokes of pen, my father had acknowledged – in principle – my ability to rule in my own right, and parliament had unanimously accepted it.

"Your mother has always been right," Henry commented upon the act when I asked him. "You would make a fine queen. No living man shall ever oppose it again, and if God so wills it, you shall wear the crown."

"I am humbled to know that you think me so worthy, Father… but I sincerely hope and pray that Edward and his heirs will succeed you. I would rather be his advisor than wear the crown myself. When you gave me the regency… it was a heavy burden."

He bent over to kiss my forehead. "And yet you carried it. This is what kings do. Make sure your brother will able to do so as well when the time has come. Promise me."

"I will help him, Majesty, so help me God."

"Good. And now you must go and help the Queen prepare the Christmas season. She tells me Master Holbein has designed some splendid decorations, and with her sister heavily pregnant at home, there is no one to help her choose."

"I am sure Elizabeth would love to. She is old enough to have an opinion of her own, and cleverer than most at her age."

My father nodded slowly. "It is a wonderful idea, my sweet. It would soothe my soul to know all my ladies happily occupied. In the meantime, I can make sure our court is swarming with noble guests, both foreign and English, for Christmastide. Let us see for ourselves how many possible grooms a beautiful princess can attract."

"Father!" I was actually shocked by his words, but he immediately chuckled.

"Oh, dear, do not fret. I promised I would only ever consider a man who threw himself at your feet, and I shall stick by my words. But the princes of Europe need not know that. Francis, that cunning old fox, is trying to send his namesake, Francis of Guise, to our court for the holiday season. No doubt in order to charm you and carry you away to France."

"Francis of Guise? Is he related to Mary of Guise?"

My father nodded. "Her younger brother. Mary, that wench. The French whore your treacherous aunt found for her half-bred son, King James. They married in May and yet there is no sign of a prince for the royal cradle. King Francis is a fool if he thinks I would wed my daughter to the Guise family," he said harshly, but then smiled. "Let them think that I would. Let him come, this Duke Francis. Let it not be said the English were bad hosts."

"I shall be courteous then," I agreed, visibly relieved. The idea of marrying for political reasons again did not exactly thrill me.

"You shall. And we'll also allow others to come. Our victory at Preveza has made England's name resound through the land, especially in Italy. The Doge of Venice wants to send us an envoy, and the Duke of Ferrara asked to send one of his sons. An acquaintance of George Boleyn, as he didn't tire to point out, and of marriageable age."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I should be particularly courteous to the Prince of Ferrara, then, as well?"

"Only of you so wish. An Italian match might not be unwise, in any case, for us to show the Bishop of Rome that we can be at the heart of Christendom – with or without his blessing," the King mused. "That is, if the Prince is willing to live in England. I shall not let you go, Mary, now that you are an integral part of the succession. I need you with me. England needs you."

"Thank you, Father. I hope I shall not disappoint you," I returned, hoping that the matter of another possible marriage would be over now.

As it turned out, it wasn't. Far from it, actually, since my annulment was now a thing of the past. People forget very quickly, it seems, while on the other hand acutely noting my newly elevated status. If you were a cynical schemer (of which there were quite a few among the ranks of the nobility), you'd have figured out by now just where I stood: I was only one dead prince away from being queen. Any man I married could be king, which apparently was more attractive than anything else.

I found myself fighting off unwanted conversations and letters from foreign courts by the day. Even those who meant well, like my cousin Mary, began to annoy me. Sure, she was trying to secure for me the happiness she had once had by asking around. She was well-connected and would certainly soon come up with suitable candidates, but still – I didn't want to feel like cattle. I didn't need anyone's help, I didn't need a 100% reasonable match. Philipp had been my reasonable match, and what happened? Things that I did not foresee. Things that I couldn't influence.

I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Unfortunately, however politely I tried to convey this message, no one at court seemed to get it. Not even those I truly liked.

"Your Highness, if it please you, I would introduce you to my brother, Thomas," Mary Fitzroy told me some day in December.

Sighing inwardly, I put on a smile and nodded towards the youth put before me. Youth, I say, though in truth Mary's brother was just a few years younger than me, and certainly a man grown in Tudor times. But sometimes, it was hard to forget that I had lived thirty years before becoming Mary, and that a man of eighteen would always seem a boy to me.

"My Lord, it is a pleasure to meet you," I said, trying to quickly change the topic. "What about my dear brother, Lord Fitzroy? Will he be joining us for Christmas?"

"I fear not, Your Highness. His health…"

I put a hand on her hand and squeezed it lightly. "Say no more. Please tell the Duke that he is within my every prayer, and that I would come to visit him after Christmas, if he feels ready to receive visitors."

Mary's eyes lit up. "I'm sure he would be delighted, Your Highness."

"Perhaps Your Highness would also like to visit Norfolk Hall on your way back. Many say it is one of the finest houses in the land, and my father the Duke would be more than happy to receive you," her brother Thomas chimed in.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and put on a smile instead. Yes, his father would be very happy… if he could dig his claws into me and marry me to his son. A niece as queen, a daughter-in-law as back-up queen… Double tap!

"Perhaps. Though I would hate to leave court for too long. I have grown rather fond of spending time with Her Majesty. Truly, Sister Mary, it is such a woeful pity that my dear brother keeps you in the countryside. You would be a lovely addition to the Queen's ladies."

"I think not that the Queen would like my husband here…"

"Don't fret, the royal family is at peace. Have you not heard that my own mother, the Marquess of Kensington, is now governess to the Prince and Princess in all but name?"

"They say she is to be admired for her care," Thomas agreed with me. "I am sure she has passed on this gift of gentleness to her daughter."

Now, I actually sighed. God on earth, why don't you stop this pitiful attempt, boy?

"The Princess Mary is much beloved by all," Mary Fitzroy interjected.

Thomas Howard nodded. "And I now see why. Your tales about her do not do her justice, however."

I tried to think of a way to escape this blatantly obvious flattery, but somehow, I didn't find a witty response.

"You really should come to Norfolk once. You would love it," Mary said, clearly oblivious to the game her brother was playing. Or was forced to play. I was dead sure his ambitious father was behind this painful flirting attempt.

A shout interrupted us. "Princess Mary!"

The three of us turned around to see the hero of Preveza rushing towards us. Where on earth had he come from, now?

"Your Grace…"

"Your Highness, come quickly. In the gardens, the Princess Elizabeth… there's been an accident…"

Mary Fitzroy immediately pressed a hand to her mouth, gasping in shock, while her brother just stood there like a stone. I, on the other hand, was completely agitated and forgot about my manners. I left them standing and rushed to where George had come from, hearing from afar how he asked for forgiveness and followed me then.

A few corners later, I waited for him. "Where? The fish pond? Tell me, please. What happened?"

Breathing heavily, George stopped, and then smiled. "Forgive me, Princess, it was naught but a ruse. Your sister is fine."

"Elizabeth…?"

"Is all well and stitching with the Marquess, I believe. I made it all up."

"You…" I wanted to get angry, but when I saw his grin, I understood why he had done it. Unlike sweet Mary Fitzroy, he must have noticed Thomas Howard's hapless attempts. He had simply tried to help me out. But I knew a simple thank you was not what he hoped for. He could get that from just about anyone else. "You are incredibly rude. Such childish behaviour in a duke… perhaps I should advise His Majesty to withdraw your title."

George shrugged laughing. "I'd still be a damn hero, then."

"You are always so satisfied with yourself… sometimes I wonder how your sisters even managed to endure you. And I can only hope Edward has not inherited this feature."

"Oh, mind you, Princess! He might be a shy lad now, but I can assure you he'll be a ladies' man in no time. With THAT father and THAT uncle? I think it impossible to assume otherwise."

Now, I had to chuckle as well. "Then I had better keep you as far away from my sweet brother as possible."

"I wonder how you would manage to achieve that. I am the Queen's brother, after all."

"And I'm the King's daughter," I countered.

For a second, we were both silent, and then we both smiled broadly.

"Look at us, all mighty and so very important," George said ironically. "All of Europe is at our feet!"

"Well, some of it, at least. Your victories have brought us Venetian guests for Christmas. Not any noble ladies presenting you with little surprises, though, I hope?"

His smile was insinuating. "You never know."

"I hope not, for your sake. Seeing you're a bachelor now, the King might just make you marry one of the ladies."

George waved my words away. "He had better busy himself finding a new match for you. The crown jewel of his kingdom, unmarried… a waste, I say. A shame."

"There are some suitors coming, actually. One of them claims he was your friend in Venice… a prince of Ferrara?"

"Francesco?" George raised his eyebrows. There was something strange about his expression. "Here to pay court to you?"

I didn't like his tone somehow. Something about it made me miffed.

"Why not? Does it bewilder you so much to think a man would travel far to see me?"

"Oh, not at all, Princess. Everyone with eyes in their head and warmth in their body must see that you are, by far, the most eligible lady in the land. I would even call you the fairest of them all, would I not fear that my sister the Queen could walk these halls any moment," he said, and then pretended to have heard steps. "Queen Anne is the most charming and beautiful woman on earth. Shame on you to think otherwise, Princess!"

I laughed heartily. "Hush, Your Grace, you're getting both of us in trouble!"

"Ah, but that is what I do. I make trouble and win wars. Apparently. Surprisingly."

"And you know foreign princes who, all of a sudden, express their wish to meet me. Tell me, Your Grace, did you by chance speak about me?"

"I wouldn't remember," he said, but his grinning face told me otherwise.

It was inappropriate, but I bopped him. Hell, why not? We were friends. "You! Selling me like cattle, are you?"

"I would never dare," George returned catching my hand before I could withdraw it. He held it for a second. "But you saved me when I needed help the most. You rescued me when I was lost. I would only try and repay that kindness. You deserve to be happy, my Princess."

I stared at him blankly, unable to say anything. Bluntness such as this, from a man… I had been used to it in my other life, but now that I had been living in Tudor times for so long, I had almost forgotten what I felt like to have a normal, carefree conversation with someone of the opposite sex.

"Do you think I would be happy with Francesco of Ferrara?"

"No," he returned, letting go off my hand. "But his father is rich, and he would surely shower you with gifts."

And boom, that moment of closeness, of sincerity was gone.

"You," I scolded him. "You think my happiness can be bought with bracelets?"

"Oh, not only bracelets, but maybe dresses and tiaras and rings and necklaces… oh, and do not forget the earrings. I think pearls would look absolutely lovely on you…"

"Pah, I do not wish to listen to these insults any longer," I returned just as playfully. "Remove yourself from my sight, Your Grace. I require to be rid of your scoundrel presence."

George laughed. "Scoundrel? Well, I shall remember that the next time an unwanted suitor is beleaguering you. Save yourself, then!"

"Perhaps I won't need to save myself. Perhaps I'll like Prince Francesco very, very much."

"Yes, perhaps YOU will," George returned and bowed. "I bid you a good day, Princess."

"And a good day to you, Your Grace."

We both left smiling, both blissfully unaware of how fateful this conversation would later seem to us.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34 – In which I dallied with my suitors**

The happy season of 1538 had finally come. The halls and kitchens of Hampton Court burst into life as the royal entourage arrived to flee the stink of inner London. With them came the music, the laughter, the merriment – and a seemingly endless stream of foreign visitors as well. Europe was unusually peaceful, at least for the time being, so people could muster the strength and cost to travel to other courts and pay homage in the name of their kings.

One of them was Francis of Guise, who had been sent by his namesake King Francis as an envoy and – less officially – possible candidate for my hand. He was tall, young and rather comely, a vivacious noble of not even twenty years. Certainly, he was well liked by women at the French court, and the English ladies were no different. There is something about the French… an air of grandeur, of savoir-vivre, that I must admit is rather attractive.

Of course, I wouldn't marry him.

His sister had wed the Scottish king, and therefore she had chosen the wrong side. No matter how many years had passed since the James-Duncan-fiasco, the bitterness still stung. That man and his mother had tricked me despite the fact that we were family. They had thought to take advantage of me. Anyone who sided with them couldn't be a friend of mine.

Or could they?

"Your Highness is an exceptionally able dancer," Francis complimented me as we shared in a dance on one of the many joyful nights of Christmas. "You should love to visit the French court once and learn how to dance a pavan. I am certain you would quickly outshine every other lady, making even my King regret that he married your cousin instead of you."

"You speak too highly of my poor skills, Your Grace. I do not think your King would look at me twice," I replied, playing the game of courtesy. It was fun, after all, to flirt with good looking young men.

He shook his hand vigorously, but was interrupted by the music ending. He bowed and applauded the musicians before offering me a hand to lead me from the dance floor.

"On the contrary, Madame, His Majesty speaks highly of you. It would appear you have made a favourable impression at Calais."

I smiled. His attempts at flattery were obvious, but at least they were actually charming, unlike most efforts I had been subjected to in the past months. Like Mary Fitzroy's brother… I shuddered to remember that! "You see me humbled. I assumed the King wouldn't even know who I was."

"Everyone in France knows who you are, Princess," Francis assured me. "I daresay there are few nobles in Europe who have not heard about your grace and kindness. That and your Tudor will."

"Tudor will?" I laughed. I noticed many eyes were prying upon us, trying to see whether the French were gaining favour with me. "Whatever should you mean with that?"

"Many give you credit for the successful negotiations between my King and the Lady of the Netherlands. It has also been said that even as far away as Venice, people whisper about you as the second coming of the Virgin Mary. A lady of noble heart and noble stock who inspired the Christian heroes to drive the barbaric Turks into the sea."

I downed a cup of wine to let these words sink in. Was it really true? My eyes soared through the room looking for George Boleyn. If anyone had started these rumours, it must have been him. When I found him, I noticed him staring back and smiling. That daring rogue, I thought.

"Surely, you do not give credence to all that praise. No one could be as perfect as the princess you speak about. We are all but mortal souls."

Francis nodded. "And it is within that mortality that we may discover beauty. For what would anything mean without death? Nothing. No rose would smell sweet if we were subjected to it for eternity. No poems of love would still harbour meaning. What comes without an end, without a cost, is ultimately worth nothing at all."

"Your Grace…" I raised an eyebrow. "I did not take you for a philosopher."

"I have read my ancient Greek literature," he admitted grinning. "And whilst certainly, these gods and demigods and fairy-tale creatures never existed, I still find them a good allegory of true human behaviour. A quite entertaining allegory, in fact. Have you heard about Narcissus, Your Highness?"

"The one who loved his own reflection so much that he drowned in a lake?" My response was absolutely cool. Of course I had listened in school when the ancient Greek myths had come up! "There are some who would call him a Frenchman these days."

"Ha!" Francis almost choked on his wine, and for a second I feared I had overstepped some boundaries. Then, however, I realized he was laughing. "Good God, Princess Mary, you wield your tongue like a sword!"

Graciously refilling his cup, I replied: "I hope Your Grace is not too disappointed."

"On the contrary, I find it most refreshing. The rumours about your wit certainly do you no justice, Your Highness." With that, he placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

"Your Grace seems to have heard a lot about me, then. I feel uneasy now, seeing that I know so little about you."

"If there is anything you'd wish to know, do not hesitate to ask, Your Highness."

"To be frank, there is one thing… do you know why your master has sent you, of all his nobles, to represent him this year?"

Francis smiled. "Perhaps he though me the most charming? Certainly, my command of the English language is far better than that of many of my fellow countrymen. Oh, and I am sure he hopes that my prowess and good looks might tempt you into considering a French match for your hand, Princess."

For a moment, I was baffled by his charming honesty, but then I smiled. "You French clearly do not lack self-esteem."

"It is what we are known for, other than thinking about our own beauty so much that we drown in ponds," Francis returned. "Though, we actually like beautiful women more. Especially those who have the wits to match."

I raised an eyebrow, again. "Do you, now?"

"At least in Guise, we do. A lady like yourself would be much praised in my home country," Francis assured me.

I smiled. It was a genuine smile, for in truth, I had begun to like Francis. He was flattering, but somehow also a natural charmer, and I could actually picture myself with him. Which, of course, was unfortunate, for I would never marry him. Not when his sister lounged on the Scottish throne. And to add to my usual bad luck, the other prominent suitor who had come for me, Francesco d'Este, was also no viable option. Why, you may ask?

He was my age and extremely handsome, which came as no surprise to me, seeing that his mother had been the infamously beautiful Lucrezia Borgia. He came from a noble and rich family with a vast network of nuptial ties. His eldest brother, Ercole, for example, was married to Princess Renée of France. The family was one of the few to call both King Francis and the Emperor their allies. In short, there was no fault in either his looks or pedigree. He was also, I must admit, able to offer decent conversation and behave with decorum.

The problem was, he had not actually come to court me.

At first, it had been but a giggling thought in the naughty mind of mine, but as the days of Christmas progressed, I began to suspect. I began to ask questions. And in the end, the realization dawned on me that I was not the person he sought to be close to.

"You are getting yourself into trouble, Your Grace," I told my dear 'uncle' George once I finally caught him for a dance. It was the best way to speak to him during these hustling days. And since I had downed many a cup that night, I was bold enough to address the matter in person. "Signor Francesco is proving to be less subtle by the day."

"I do not know what Your Highness is trying to tell me," George replied, but it didn't sound very sincere. "Are you drunk?"

"I beg you not to consider me a fool," I returned as the dance brought us closer together. "For I am not. I saw you with Mister Smeaton once, and I'm seeing you with our guest now."

Taking both my hands into his and leading me through a procession of steps, George shook his head. "Your Highness is mistaken."

"Am I truly? For I can assure you that when I speak to Lord Francesco, all he can rhapsodize about is a certain heroic English admiral…"

The music drove us apart again, but only for a brief moment, in which we both pretended not to be distracted by anything. Court's number one rule: Just keep smiling!

"You are mistaken, Princess," he emphasized as we danced back together. "There is nothing."

"And was there never anything? What exactly happened in Italy?"

George smiled. "Oh, my lady, must you be so investigative? Does it not say that whatever happens in Venice stays in Venice?"

"I do not mean to judge you, George, only to protect you," I hissed back in a barely audible voice.

Suddenly, his face turned serious. "There is no need. I promise you that nothing of importance happened between Prince Francesco and I, and if he is subject to contrary beliefs, I will rectify them as soon as possible."

"Thank you," I whispered back. "I just don't want you to get in trouble…"

"Not for this. I agree, Princess, that if I am to die, the cause should be worthy," George replied as we were dancing a dos-a-dos. "Like, um… heroically protecting the most beautiful Princess on earth from a fire-breathing dragon."

"You're mocking me again," I accused him, using the chance to hit him while making it appear as part of the dance.

"Oh, but it isn't mocking, my Princess. You ARE the most beautiful lady ever to be called princess, and I only regret that England is running short on dragons these days."

I laughed. There was something so refreshing about his brash comments… or perhaps it was the wine… but somehow, I felt like being foolish.

So I stopped the dance and said "ouch!"

He looked at me in surprise, then worry. "Princess? Mary, what is wrong?"

"You stepped on my foot," I exhaled and began to stumble away from the dance floor.

George followed me. "Your Highness, I am so sorry… please…"

Tipsy as I was, I only made it around a few corners until I was somewhat certain that no one was watching. The corridor was quiet and dimly lit, and the dancing music of the Great Hall was only a fading memory. I turned around and smiled brightly. George was clearly confused.

"What…"

"You didn't step on my foot. How could you? You're an excellent dancer," I enlightened him. "I just wanted to know… all these things you say… about me… you're so kind, so flattering, so charming… all these compliments… do you ever mean them?"

His face went absolutely serious. "Every single word."

"Why would you say these things to me?"

I searched his eyes for answers, somehow knowing that I was treading a very dangerous path.

"Because they're true. You are the most beautiful princess I have ever met, and if there ever was a dragon, I would gladly die for you."

"You know that it can never be," I said, though I was not referring to the dragon. The fact that we had unwittingly moved closer to each other did nothing to calm my tipsy nerves. "Never."

George nodded, halting his movement towards me. "I know. You are a princess, and shall wed a foreign prince to enhance England's glory. But I… can a man not speak as he thinks? Can he not dream, if only for a while? I can assure you, Princess, that even if…"

He could not finish, for I had pressed my lips to his. Without ado, I felt his hands grab my shoulders as he returned the kiss. After a second – or an eternity – we both withdrew a little.

"This is folly," he whispered.

"I know," I returned, kissing him again.

"Madness, even," he gasped into my kiss. "You shall wed… another…"

"I know." I wouldn't allow him to break the kiss, and apparently, this was as much resistance as he could muster.

If not for servants' steps approaching, we could have stayed like this forever. But this was court, and dreams only ever last so much. We waited in shocked silence until the steps declined again.

Then, George sighed deeply. "You say you want to get me out of trouble, and yet you do this…"

"I know," I said for the third time. "But I want to. I wanted this… and so I did it. I am sick and tired of doing only what is best for England."

Whoa, where did these words come from? Did I not come here to change history instead of enjoying my own private costume drama? But it felt true, and he didn't interrupt me, so I continued.

"It is true, I must marry again at the King's pleasure, but now… now I am unbound. And even if it's only for a week, a day, an hour, or one fleeting moment… I wanted to have this."

I expected him to say something witty, to object, or to walk away. But as usual, George managed to surprise me by grabbing me by the waist and pushing me against a wall. The way his lips crushed against mine was brash, and within a breath, I allowed him a kiss that was probably considered outright scandalous in Tudor times. Ignoring, of course, the fact that our whole pose was outright scandalous and could land either of us in the Tower.

Fuck it, I thought. Fuck rules, fuck England, fuck the King. For once, I want to be happy.

"The King would have my head if he saw us," George suddenly voiced my thoughts.

"I am adept at keeping secrets, as are you. We've hidden far worse," I reminded him of the high treason we had jointly committed. "Why can't we share this as long as we can?"

"Oh, we can," he replied much to my delight. "I just wanted to point it out. Though, really, I would prefer dragon's fire over your father's executioner."

It was downright dangerous, but the way he said it made me giggle. "Let's keep a low profile then. I would hate for you to lose your head."

He smiled, but before he was able to reply, steps were heard again, this time coming into our direction.

"Happy Christmas," I whispered. Then, I didn't hesitate and rushed away, trying to find my way back to the festivities without looking too deranged. As I went, I heard a male voice asking George who had just left him, and I also overheard his reply:

"Oh… just a girl…"


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35 – In which I went to Italy**

Now, at last, George and I would get the fairy-tale star-crossed lovers story we deserved, don't you expect that? Once again, I hate to disappoint you. We didn't. In fact, we got ourselves into far more murderous trouble than either of us had expected. But first things first.

Neither of us could have known what was to come. Nor could we have spoken to each other about the future, for I didn't even manage to see George again in private during Christmastide. Even if I had… I didn't know how to proceed. I loved the way he flirted with me, of course, but I also knew what my father would do if he found out. I might have softened his infamous temper, especially by preventing that nasty leg wound that pained the real Henry forever, but he was a Tudor still. He had threatened to cut off his best friend Suffolk's head when he had challenged him by marrying the King's sister.

What would he do to his beloved brother-in-law if he knew about his indiscretions with his own precious daughter?

Well, there was little time for me to wonder. On New Year, Francesco d'Este proposed that I should accompany him back to Italy, to see the wonders of the Renaissance and meet his noble family. Since he knew my royal father would never let me go unchaperoned, he suggested I should take my uncle, George Boleyn, with me. It was a see-through plan for both George and I, but my father saw no reason to object. I did see many reasons, but in a moment of youthful folly, I decided not to voice my thoughts. The chances outweighed the risks, I thought. See the world, meet new possible allies, be far away from my father's eye with George?

Why not.

And so we left court in early January, with plans to stay in Italy until after my birthday. The Ferrara family, Francesco assured me, would throw lavish feasts in my honour. I listened to his stories about his family members, and the palaces they owned, and all their riches. In the beginning, I found it rather annoying, wanting only to find a stolen moment alone with my chaperone. (Which, by coincidence, was probably also what Francesco wanted, and the fact that I knew he wanted to be with George too made the situation even weirder.) Then, however, I began to listen, and I realized I might get more than what I bargained for by travelling to Italy. The family d'Este was indeed well connected – at the heart of European politics, basically.

"Your Highness, welcome to Ferrara," Duke Ercole, Francesco's eldest brother, greeted me cordially when we finally reached the snow-covered hills of northern Italy.

His wife, the former French Princess Renee, smiled as well. "We are honoured to receive you in our halls, Princess."

"I am delighted that you should have chosen to invite me," I replied in Latin, as both of them had used it. Then, I added in fluent French: "And please allow me to convey to you the sincerest and best wishes of my gracious Queen Anne, who has penned a letter that I shall give you later. She speaks of you with great fondness, Madame."

Renee's smile grew wider. Apparently, talking to Queen Anne beforehand had actually paid off, for she and Renee had been close friends during their time at the French court.

"I am looking forward to hearing more from my dear friend, the Queen. It is such a blessing that the sad stories about her demise turned out to be falsehoods."

"Blessed be the Lord," I agreed in Latin again. "May I introduce Your Graces to the Queen's brother, Duke George?"

George stepped forward to bow gallantly.

"I believe we have met before, in Venice," Duke Ercole noted. "Though, that was before you were dubbed a hero. We are honoured to house you in Ferrara, Your Grace. Everyone these days speaks about your endeavours, most of all my dear brother Francesco."

All of us shot a brief glance at Francesco, and from the many facial expressions, I was unsure of what everyone knew. Did Ercole know about his brother's… preferences? Did Renee? Did Francesco realize that George wasn't… interested? This would certainly be an interesting visit, I mused.

And that was even before I met the rest of the family.

Oh, I would love to tell you all about the two months I spent in Ferrara, and all the wonders I saw, but to be frank, they all pale in comparison to how my stay ended. So I shall limit myself to a few snippets of what transpired in Italy, and leave it to that.

The first thing I did was pay homage to my hostess, Duchess Renee. It was not only right and proper, it was also my best choice for finding friends here. She had been close with my stepmother once, and I was intend on playing that card. When she invited me to sew with her, I immediately accepted. We sat together by a fireplace, surrounded by some ladies, and let our needles fly. As we spoke, Renee would constantly look over to a crib tended to by an elderly lady.

"My youngest, born before Christmas," she explained to me, looking at the babe lovingly. "Luigi."

"A beautiful boy. The Duke must be very pleased," I returned.

"He is pleased with all our children. Though I sometimes think he loves our eldest, Anna, the most."

I raised an eyebrow. He loved his daughter more than sons?

"Between you and I – I named her for my dear friend, though Ercole does not know it," Renee whispered. "Yet I wouldn't mind if you told your stepmother."

"I most certainly will," I assured her dumbfounded. "I'm sure the Queen will be deeply honoured. Perhaps we'll have an English princess Renee in the future, then."

Renee smiled. "Perhaps. Is it true, then, that your father is fully reconciled with his wife? We heard such troubling rumours…"

I nodded firmly. "They are as happy as ever they were. His Majesty praises the Lord every day and night for returning the Queen to him. And of course, the Prince and Princess are most happy as well."

"I am glad to hear it. We have watched the events in England from afar… well, let us not talk about these matters. Pray, tell me more about your siblings. Do you miss them?"

"Very much so, but I made sure they were never far," I said, and to explain my words, I showed her the locket I had ordered to be made last year. Inside were miniature portraits of Edward and Elizabeth. "They are the greatest joy in my life… and that of Their Majesties, of course. The King dotes on them both. Edward is a sweet boy, soon to be four years of age. Elizabeth, at five, is terribly precocious, but in a good sense."

"Sounds very much like my Anna," Renee mused smiling. "I have never given up hope that my family might one day meet that of my dear Anne. Our daughters would get along well, I am sure of it, and your brother sounds like an ideal friend for my elder boy, Alfonso. Do you think…?"

I nodded. "I would do my very best to convince the King of it. He has been in a jolly mood ever since the Queen was returned to him, I dare not think he would deny her. We should all come here, I think. Perhaps in springtime?"

"Yes, Maytime is the most lovely," Renee agreed. "It was my first May here that won me over. I was so unsure of what to expect, and when I came here in April, big grey clouds hung over the land. But then, when I got to know my new husband and country, my mood lightened up just like the sky. I love to remember that."

"It is a happy marriage, then," I said rather to myself.

Apparently, Renee had heard me. "At first, not so much. I was afraid of Ercole for who his mother had been. Madame de Soubise, my governess, would not even speak her name… but when I came here, I saw for myself the remnants of Lucrezia, and that she had been far from the she-wolf everyone has dubbed her. And the jewels… wait till you see the ducal jewels that my husband's late father had made for her. They are magnificent."

"I heard she was a woman of great tastes," I agreed. "And a fascinating person in general. I have admired her in paintings."

"She was indeed, and I regret not having met her. From time to time, I look at the jewels, and I imagine them speaking to me. Would she have approved of me for her son? I do not know, but I know he likes it when I wear my dresses like she did. He was but eleven when she died in childbed… Ercole speaks of her fondly, so long as his aunt is not around, of course."

The last bit made her chuckle, and me frown.

"Who is his aunt?"

"Madonna Isabella," Renee replied in a much more gloomy voice. "The Dowager Marquise of Mantua, sister to his father. After Lucrezia had died, Isabella practically raised the Ferrara children."

"But she did not like your husband's late mother?"

"You had better ask her yourself," came the reply. "As I would generally recommend you present yourself to her, for she feels offended rather quickly. She is due to arrive on the morrow, along with her son."

I remember wondering about Renee's words. What was so special about the old lady of the family? Well, if I was expected to meet with her anyway, I could just as well find out. And besides, I would have to keep up the pretence of being interested in a marriage to Francesco if I didn't want anyone to ask uncomfortable questions. What better way than to ask the matriarch for her opinion?

So, after Isabella had arrived, I asked for an audience, which was promptly granted. A liveried servant opened the doors and allowed me in. At first, his dark skin colour merely surprised me, but then I remembered the Italians had kept Moorish slaves for quite some time. It wasn't uncommon, even if it made me feel uneasy. He led me into a parlour, where two heinously young black slave girls were serving sweets. Truly, these servants couldn't have been older than eight, and they were dressed up in fantastic clothing.

Weird tastes, he, but who am I to judge, I thought.

Then, an old woman of more than sixty followed them, bowed over a walking cane. Apart from this clear sign of her age, however, she had outdone herself to appear young. Her dress was fashionable and colourful, her hair perfectly done, her make-up a tad too much.

"Your Highness, forgive me for not curtseying, but these days my legs do not serve me as well as they once did," her voice rasped.

"There is no need, Madonna," I assured her and took the seat she offered.

"Such an honour for this family to house royalty again," Isabella then said. "I hope you have found everything to your tastes, Your Highness. A sweet pie, perhaps? Some dates?"

The little Moorish girl came closer, offering me a silver plate of glittering dates. I smiled at her and declined politely.

The Dowager Marquise watched intently as the girl put back the plate. "Pretty thing, isn't she? A special delivery from Venice. The orphanages there burst with these creatures, but rarely do you find one so exceptionally dark. Like ebony, isn't it?"

Her voice was filled with admiration and fascination, while my eyes filled with horror. Exceptionally dark? What on earth was wrong with that woman? I tried hard to swallow my 21st-century disguise and smile.

"Tell me, Your Highness, what brings you to our beloved Italy?"

"Your nephew, Madonna. My father has received tidings that Signor Francesco might be interested in an English alliance, and when he came to my father's court, he invited me to see the wonders of Italy. Chaperoned, of course."

"Francesco?" She raised an eyebrow and sank her teeth into a pie. "Then, alas, you were unwise to come."

I played the naïve girl. "Excuse me, but I do not understand. Would you advise me against such a marriage?"

"Most emphatically. Francesco is as unfortunate a choice for husband as it gets. He was born to the devil's whore, and God has seen fit to punish him accordingly by investing abnormal desires into his heart. The blood in his veins can barely be called noble."

Whoa! I was taken aback by the harshness of her reply and didn't know what to say.

"Take my advice, Your Highness, and spare yourself years of misery. A man with such foul tastes and disgustful pedigree is no wise choice for a young lady, much less a princess. I will never understand why the French King gave away the Princess Renee to the offspring of Satan, but alas… at least Ercole is not a sodomite."

My eyes grew even wider. "I… I must render thanks to you for warning me…" I managed to say.

"Oh, it is my pleasure. And it pains me to see such a beautiful, spirited lady like you prospected to wed a half-wit. If only you had come a little earlier, you could have wed my son, Ferrante. He is of far better stock, and most charming. I think we should call him here, so you will see what I mean."

I was still too shocked to object. While we waited for her son, I watched in silent horror as the Dowager interacted a little more with her black slaves, and listened in polite silence to what she told me. When her son finally arrived, I was actually glad for it.

"Ferrante, amore. This is the Princess Mary of England. She is here to be courted by your cousin, Francesco," Isabella said not without malice.

Her son, a man of about thirty with balding hair, smiled gently. "Then Francesco is a very lucky man," he concluded and bowed.

"Why don't you take Her Highness for a walk in the gardens? Just make sure she doesn't get cold. I find these long conversations exceedingly exhausting. You'll forgive me, Your Highness, won't you?"

"Of course," I said, and never did I mean anything more. Anything to get away from her! "Signor Ferrante?"

He offered his arm with a smile and led me to the gardens. Once we were safely away, he cleared his throat.

"I hope my lady mother has not inconvenienced you, Your Highness."

"Oh, not at all," I lied.

"She has a habit of doing so, and her manners must seem foreign to you, I assume. But she only means well."

I faked a smile.

"So, you consider marrying my cousin, Your Highness?"

"My father, the King, thinks it a possible match," I tried to evade. "Though your mother has advised against it."

Ferrante sighed. "Oh, forgive me, Your Highness. It is not always easy to be part of this family… but I must warn you to take my mother's words carefully. She is quite resentful towards some parts of the family…"

"Why?" I just blurted it out rather unceremoniously, but to my surprise, Ferrante wasn't offended.

"Why is a woman resentful? It is always about love… and jealousy. I had assumed you knew."

I shook my head. "I am not privy to the rumours of Italy, I'm afraid."

"They had an affair, everyone knew. My father and Madonna Lucrezia. Even her husband, the Duke, knew. And while he did not object, for whatever reason, my mother clearly voiced her concerns. But my father brushed them away. Naturally, my mother did not take kindly to Madonna Lucrezia giving birth to a son that bore the same name as my father… though I am myself fairly certain that Francesco is indeed my uncle's son. The nose is uncanny."

Once again, I was baffled by the rich and deranged family history. And by how naturally Ferrante spoke to me. This honesty was something I had experienced with only few people.

"A family of dangerous liaisons, then," I concluded.

"Is there any other kind of family? Though, I must assent to my mother's advice in that regard: that you should not consider Francesco's offer. It is not sincere."

Again, I tried to play the innocent, surprised maiden by saying: "Oh?" But Ferrante, unlike his mother, wouldn't buy it.

"You strike me as an intelligent woman, a true lady of the Renaissance. Will you tell me you had not noticed?"

"I, um… well, I might have had an inkling."

He raised an eyebrow. "And yet you came."

"Well, I've never been to Italy," I replied chuckling.

Ferrante returned the laugh. "That is as good a reason as any. Take what you can get."

"And give nothing back," I mumbled, remembering a similar saying from Pirates of the Carribean.

To my surprise, even if he couldn't possibly know that movie, Ferrante laughed even more. "My, my, Princess Mary, you have an interesting approach to life. Who is to say the English are dullards, now?"

"Dullards? Who says such things?" I returned in feigned outrage.

"Certainly no one who has met you, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing more from you in the days to come. I take it you will stay until the end of February?"

"Such are my plans. That is, if my uncle wills to stay as long."

Ferrante nodded. "Ah, the famous English admiral. I had hoped to meet him in the flesh."

So do I, my thoughts went, but I knew better than to tell him that. In fact, I had barely spoken to George since our arrival. Much like in England, we didn't manage to find time alone, and this situation was certainly unhealthy. Each of us was left with their own questions and doubts with no chance to voice them to anyone. I knew one of us would eventually snap, though I had assume it would be me, not George.

That night, however, he practically burst into my room and demanded to speak to "his niece".

I had already changed into my nightgowns, so I put on a surcoat and went to help my hapless maids, who were trying to tell George he had to leave.

"Ladies, there is no need. His Grace is my chaperone and part of the family. Surely, if he comes to me at this hour, it is of importance. You may leave us."

He watched impatiently as they left, while I turned around again to go back to my more private rooms.

"I think you should not act so boldly, Your Grace, for else people might start to whisper," I tried to banter with him.

George wouldn't have it. As soon as it was safe, he followed me and rather rudely grabbed me by the shoulders. I wanted to protest, but before I could have voiced any words, his lips had already sealed mine. Surprise, anger and agitation mixed inside of me.

"What are you…"

"I saw you," he whispered. "With a man. In the gardens."

It took me a moment to process his words. "Signor Ferrante? Why would you mind, you don't seem to care when I speak to Francesco."

"There's a difference."

"Why? Because Signor Ferrante might actually like women?" I teased him.

George shook his head. "Why do you push me away?"

"What, do you expect me to cause a scandal here? There was no chance to see you alone, and if we don't speed things up now, the maids might just begin to talk. That is exactly what we don't need."

The sadness in his face urged me to kiss him again, as a means of making up. He returned the kiss most fervently.

"Leave now," I whispered.

He put his forehead to mine, and I could feel his breath. A log cracked in the fireplace. For a second, I wished this was modern times. I wanted to forget about protocol and political marriages, about propriety and going to your marriage bed untainted. But I couldn't. He kissed me again.

"Please," I urged.

He sighed deeply. "It is a wicked game you play with me, Your Highness…"

Stay, I wanted to say. Stay here and forget about the world! This charmingly perfect mixture of desire and sadness in his dark eyes was tempting… but not worth reputation, or his life.

"I'm sorry, I…"

He shook his head. "No, you're right. I will go. We have come too far to be dragged down by this… mesmerizing as it is, though," he said looking me up and down. "If you could only try to be less beautiful."

"Stop it, or else I'll forget myself."

"Maybe that is what I want," he returned, half-smiling. Then, he shook his head and turned to go. "But not today."

I echoed his head-shaking. "Not today."

Then he left, and the dark wooden door closed behind him. I sighed deeply.

"Not today."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36 – In which a wicked game was played**

Duchess Renee and her husband invited me to travel their lands with them, and I readily agreed. It was unusually warm for the beginning of February when we rode out to a country house owned by the d'Estes. Country house, I say, but really it was more like a small palace on its own, and one of the most beautiful locations I had ever seen. Truly, I don't mean to belittle England in any way, but the Italians were far ahead of us in style and comfort. I had already taken to wearing the fabulously colourful Renaissance dresses the Italian women were famous for, and now I almost found myself wishing I would marry Francesco just to stay here.

Almost. Of course, this wasn't what I had come for. This was only a short, beautiful distraction from my true path… just like George. Whenever we exchanged glances during our journey, I told myself just that. It was lovely… but just a fantasy. It could never be true, would only stand in my way. And in his. Had I saved his life just to have him beheaded for desiring the King's daughter?

"Are you unwell, Your Highness?"

It was Ferrante who pulled me from my thoughts. He had come along, just like his mother and her unsettling little black slaves. Francesco, of course, had also come, which was unsurprising given the fact that my chaperone had to come with me. Much to my delight, the Ferrara children had also come, and so I was able to finally get to know Anna and her little siblings. I distinctly remember playing with Anna in the gardens of the country house, chasing her around the fountain. Did I know then that one day, I would broker her marriage? That our paths would be intertwined by fate? I can't tell.

And I will postpone all my rambling thoughts about this matter, for my games with Anna were far from the most important thing that happened there. No, a deadly and wicked game would be played in that country house, and I believe it all began when we were sitting inside one evening.

"No, truly, I did not have to beg the King to give me leave for coming here," I found myself telling Renee in a light mood. "He was unusually susceptible to the idea."

"Even though we were under the impression your royal father was overly protective of his children," her husband informed me. "We were told that once he found out about the obstacles to your marriage, he had it annulled immediately so as to protect you from living in sin. He must love you dearly."

"He does, he does," I replied, suddenly absent-minded. "Such a pitiful story."

Renee nodded. "Indeed, we have heard great stories of heroism about your… well, the Duke was never your husband in the eyes of God, was he?"

"Perhaps you ought to be grateful, Your Highness. Military men are never faithful," Dowager Marquise Isabella suddenly barked. All our eyes wandered to her. "Tell me, even though it turned out not to have been a true marriage, did he stay true to you?"

"Mother," Ferrante interrupted her hastily. "This is hardly an appropriate topic for such an occasion."

The old lady raised one of her eyebrows. "Well, why not? If the Princess feels uncomfortable answering, I am sure she would let me know. She's not one of those dainty Italian damsels you are so fond of, son."

"Aunt Isabella, I must insist that you guard your tongue," Duke Ercole added in a much more serious tone. "The Princess Mary is our guest."

"Yes, and she has a tongue and a mind of her own, which is more than can be said about your own wife," Isabella snarled and turned to me. "Tell me, Your Highness, do my questions inconvenience you?"

Now, all of a sudden, all eyes were on me, and I gasped. I really didn't know what to say… something polite? A witty remark? The truth?

"I am… merely not used to Italian curiosity," I tried to calm down the situation. "It is uncommon to speak about private matters in England."

"Ah, there you see, just the strange sensation of novelty," Isabella said triumphantly. "Now, your not-husband, was he a faithful man?"

I looked at her, and then at George, who had become awfully pale. He rose to his feet. Apparently, he was trying to get me out of this situation.

"Dear niece, I don't think we need to…"

"Don't worry, Your Grace," I stopped him from doing whatever he meant to do. "The Lady Isabella has asked me a question, and I will not have it said that I am rude. And we are in Italy, are we not? Things are different here."

I smiled, and God be good, I can't remember whether it was fake or not.

"So to clarify the situation – no, he was not."

Now, everyone gasped. I could see shock in Renee's face, triumphant satisfaction in Isabella's, genuine surprise in Ferrante's – and cold-blooded murder in George's. Somehow, seeing his anger made me talk more.

"Though, as you yourself said, it was hardly to be expected from a military man like him. It was a political match in any case," I said in the most casual voice I could muster, refilling my cup while everyone was staring at me.

Isabella seemed intrigued. "And you, as a true-blooded princess, did nothing to stop his ways?"

"What should I have done? It is a man's right to do as he wishes, and we women are only bound to obey and serve."

"He swore an oath of fidelity," Isabella returned, and from the harshness in her voice I suspected we were no longer talking about me.

"Well, I was under the impression such things were taken lightly these days, especially here in Italy," I continued, trying to see whether I could make her snap. Something truly wicked had taken possession of me. "And with so many beautiful women around, who could fault your men? It is only natural, after all."

"Natural?!" Isabella's voice was as loud as thunder. Her cup fell to the ground and spilled all her wine on the floor. "It is an abominable sin to betray those that you are supposed to love, and any woman who throws herself at a married man is no better than a whore! She's worse, she's Jezebel!"

"You are forgetting yourself, Aunt Isabella," Duke Ercole strongly reprimanded her.

"No, you are forgetting yourself. How dare you speak to me like that, you half-bred son of the devil's whore?"

With these words, her head crimson red like the spilled wine, she rushed out of the room. We all watched her go in silent shock, until Ferrante cleared his throat.

"Please forgive my mother, cousin. She is not feeling well as of lately, and speaks of things that she should not," he said.

The Duke shook his head. "It is not your fault, Ferrante. For the love she bore my father, I shall endure your mother's antics, but I implore you to speak to her. I cannot allow this… tension to fester like an uncured ulcer. Our family must stand united."

"I'll speak to her later," Ferrante promised.

A sudden noise startled us all, and it took me a second to realize this atonal cascade was little Anna d'Este running through the room, slamming her fingers on the keys of the cembalo.

Her parents were not amused. "Anna!"

"I didn't like the yelling, I'm sorry, papa," the little girl said.

"Apologize to our guests for making such noises," the Duke replied sternly.

The young lady came to me and curtseyed. "I am sorry, Your Highness."

"No offense taken," I assured her smiling.

"Well, perhaps the little lady is not so wrong after all," Ferrante chimed in. "A little music could do wonders for all of us. Lift our spirits."

"A lovely idea. Princess Mary, is it not true that you excel at music," Renee asked.

And again – all eyes on me. Why did they have to do that? It made me feel so uncomfortable.

"I am… quite adept, though I consider it my duty to inform you that it has been years since I last used a keyboard instrument."

Suddenly, Francesco seemed to have woken up. "Oh, I am sure you are superb."

I faked a smile and rose. "If your lordship says so, then it must be true… and if you all insist, what guest would I be to deny my hosts such a small favour? Well, then… what would you have me play?"

As I made my way to the cembalo, a moment of eerie silence was followed by a hasty exclamation.

"A love song, perhaps," Francesco suggested.

I looked at him knowing that he was only playing his part, and that indeed, his suggestion was not meant to charm me. Not me.

"Splendid," Renee agreed, clapping her hands. "But not these modern superficial tunes. Something with substance, something that touches the soul."

"Then it must be a sad song," Ferrante concluded. "For only in tragedy greatness can be achieved. Only sorrow has inspired the greatest works of art."

George cleared his throat. "Why not a song about impossible love?"

My eyes met his. For a moment, I felt the world had ended, and that everyone was seeing right through me. But I couldn't lose my face. Not here, not now. I would do as I was bid and keep the show going. Trying to remember all the songs Mary had been taught in her youth, I came upon one or two which fit the description. But then my eyes met those of George again, and the emotions hit close to home. What they wanted to hear was almost exactly what he and I both felt, and if I was to speak from within my heart, I couldn't use references to old myths and legends. Even after having lived in Tudor times for many years now, my heart would still express itself in a modern way. If I had to sing, I would sing a song from my own youth.

"I know such a song as you wish, but I am afraid it can only be sung in English," I told them.

"Ah, it matters not, Princess, we shall hear your voice nonetheless," Renee assured me.

And Ferrante added grinning: "Some of us might even understand a word or two."

I accepted their words for what they were and lowered my gaze towards the keys. A story about sad, impossible love they wanted to hear, a story about sad love they would get. I hit a key to find the right tonality and began. Not once would I dare to look at anyone, least of all George, but I could feel his gaze burning right through me.

"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you, and I never dreamed that I'd know somebody like you. And I don't want to fall in love, no I don't want to fall in love… with you. What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you. No, I don't want to fall in love, no I don't want to fall in love… with you. The world was on fire and no one could save me but you. It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you, and I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you. Nobody loves no one…"

Silence. I dared not raise my sight for fear what I would see in their faces. Had I given myself away? But then Renee clapped, and so did her husband, and then Ferrante and everyone else joined in.

"Brava, Your Highness, brava," Ferrante praised me. "Such a sweet voice, one almost feels surrounded by a choir of angels. Though, if you don't mind, I also know a tune or two, and would like to compete with you. That is, if you can take a little competition?"

I smiled, truly and honestly relieved that he had gotten me out of this situation. "Of course, Lord Ferrante. I am always willing to bow to my betters."

"Ah," he returned laughing as we switched seats. "Putting no pressure on me at all. You are playing wicked, Your Highness. But don't think I might not have an ace or two up my sleeves. So, family, what do you want to hear? Another love song?"

"Something more jolly this time," Duke Ercole requested. "All this melancholy is no good for my bowels."

Ferrante did as he was bid, and truth be told, he was a fantastic player. Despite all the weirdness of the night, it turned out to be a decent party, and in the end, I felt genuinely happy and a little tipsy as well. Just the right mood to be foolish.

George's room was warmly lit by a fire and some candles when I entered. Unlike my rooms, which were guarded at night even in this country house, George was in no need of any chaperone. So, since I didn't knock, I was able to make it to his bedroom without making my presence known. I found him standing, on arm placed upon the mantelpiece, a cup of red wine in his hand. He wore nothing more than his breeches and his white linen undershirt, and foolish girl that I was, I considered it an invitation.

"Deep into thoughts, Your Grace?"

George almost dropped his cup as he turned around. "For God's sake, Mary! You've scared me to death."

"You, scared?" My voice was teasing as I drew closer. "Not the hero George Boleyn, hammer of the Turks. You wouldn't be scared by a mere woman."

"Well, if she comes into my rooms unexpected, late at night…"

The way he looked at me had softened, and he too drew closer, so I turned around again and changed my voice.

"You need to speak to Francesco."

He grumbled. "I know."

"His ambitions are becoming obvious. And if I can see them, others will soon see them too," I warned him, but then grinned as I took the cup which he had placed on a table. I took a little sip. "Well, we shall soon see how open-minded these Italians truly are, I guess."

"Would you stop acting like that," George hissed, rushing towards me and taking away the cup. "It is quite unbecoming."

I breathed in his scent and watched the many strange emotions in his face. The shadows and lights from the fireplace danced upon it, chasing each other.

"I… I sang the song for you," I suddenly stammered.

"Aye, and every word you said was rather fitting," he replied angrily. "It is a wicked game you're playing with me, Your Highness. You should go now."

"Would you kiss me? If I asked you now, would you?"

He frowned. "Why… why do you ask?"

"Because I need to know. If I asked you, would you do it?"

"I would," George exhaled, sounding as if his own answer didn't please him. "I'm a foolish man, I thought that was sufficiently established."

"Then kiss me."

To this very day, I am still surprised he obeyed me without even another blink of an eye. He rushed forward, and in the dancing shadows of the candlelit room, the gap between us was closed. I felt my blood lit on fire.

"This is wicked indeed," George gasped between two kisses. "You shouldn't be here."

Breathing heavily, I nodded. "I know. I don't want to be here. Everything I sang was true, I don't want to fall in love… but… but nobody loves no one, George. I'm not made from stone."

"But you can't have this, this is… madness. You can't always get what you want."

"Maybe sometimes I can get what I need," I whispered back, slowly guiding his hand to one of the many strings holding together my elaborate dress.

"You… should go…" He whispered back with as many resilience as he could muster. Then he pushed me against the wall.

"I don't want to go." I should not have said that. My punishment for such folly was immediate and harsh. "Oh God."

"Yes," George gasped, not knowing that my exclamation wasn't a sign of excitement.

I had seen a shadow moving towards us, but there was nothing I could do before it was too late.

"Oh my God," another voice loudly interrupted. "How could you!"

George and I let go as if we were magnets pulled away from each other, and with pounding hearts we stared into the shocked face of Francesco.

"How could you… why would you… she's your niece!"

George ventured towards him, trying to put on a calming appearance. "Francesco, you must let me explain…"

"No, no, no," Francesco returned shaking his head vigorously. "This cannot be true. You… you had her sing a song for me, for us… and then you kiss her? She's your niece!"

"Well, only by law," George returned.

Being cheeky apparently hadn't been the correct choice for this situation.

"How could you do this to me? I thought we… you called me here to speak… why do you show me this…. It was you," he concluded, now staring at me. "You… lying… whore."

George's smile faded. "Don't speak to her like that." He put himself between Francesco and me.

"You lied to me, to everyone! And you, you lied to me too," he now accused George again. "You led me on when all you wanted was some secret time away from court to fornicate with your own niece!"

"Stop speaking like that," George insisted.

"No!" Francesco was yelling now, and a second later, he had already begun pushing George back. His hands were faster than my heartbeat. "You liar!"

George stumbled backward, and in horror, I watched Francesco flee as he realized that his presumed lover was bleeding. He ran away with terror in his face while George dropped to the ground.

"Oh my God," I found myself exhaling as I sank to my feet. "Your face…"

"It's nothing, it's…" George couldn't continue his vain attempt to calm me down, for a sudden urge to vomit must have rushed through him and forced him to throw up right beside his own bed. I tried to touch him, to comfort him, to see how badly he was hurt, but he pushed me away. "Go."

"George, please, you must let me see…"

He wiped away blood and vomit from his face and shook his head.

"Go. Find Francesco. You can't let him run away like this."

"No, I need to stay with you, you're bleeding!"

"Yes, and my nose is much likely broken," he now yelled at me and turned around. "But if you don't follow that raging imbecile, God only knows who he will tell whatever he wants! I won't allow him to hurt you with his careless words, so for the love of God, find him and stop him!"

He looked terrible, but more determined than ever before. And he was right. If Francesco in his malice decided to spread the word of what he had seen… I nodded, and turned around, and began to run. Too many thoughts were swirling in my head, far too many to ever be put into words. I hardly remember any of them, though I can imagine what they must have been like. Still, I didn't have much time to scold myself, for I found Francesco in his room yelling and disassembling his furniture.

"Francesco," I addressed him hastily.

"You!" He practically yelled, and put down the vase he had been wanting to throw. "You dare show your face to me, here? You lying whore!"

"Francesco, there is no need for such vile accusations. I can understand your anger, but you must accept the truth."

His face distorted. "The truth? What truth? That I was led on? That the hero of Venice is but a lying manipulator who fucks his own niece?"

"We were not… what you saw was nothing of the sort." I blushed.

"And if I had come half an hour later? What then?"

His question hit me harder than I wanted to admit, so I tried to change the topic. "Francesco, please, none of this was ever meant to hurt you. He wanted to tell you, believe me. You deluded yourself into thinking there was something between you when in truth, there never was. He never loved you."

"Oh, but he loves you, yes? His own fucking niece?" Francesco all but spit out these words, coming dangerously close to me. "Whore. Wanton. Jezebel. You are not the pious angel everyone thinks you are, you are nothing but a depraved slut!"

A resolute yet scratchy female voice interrupted us. "What in Christ's name is going on here?" We both turned around in surprise to see Marquise Isabella standing in the door. She was dressed in her nightgown, a cap neatly placed on her thinning hair, but the way she leant on her walking cane made her seem intimidating nonetheless. "Francesco, have you completely lost your mind now? Let go off the Princess, she is our guest."

"Our guest? She is nothing but a liar," he spat.

"You are forgetting yourself, boy. Again. She is a princess of royal blood, which is much more than can be said for you. Now go to bed, you are clearly drunk and it is quite unbecoming to have a lady in your rooms at such a time of the day."

He laughed darkly and turned away from me to face her. "Unbecoming? Unbecoming?! Do you know what is unbecoming, auntie? She is!" He pointed towards me. "That wicked wench is fornicating with her own uncle in our halls! She is nothing but a common harlot!"

I wanted to strangle him for his words, but before I could act, Isabella already had.

She smiled. "Then perhaps I was mistaken, and she is the right woman for you after all… seeing that your own mother was nothing but a strumpet."

"How dare you!" Francesco roared and leapt towards her, grabbing the frail woman by the shoulders and pushing her against the wall. "You won't speak of my mother like that, never again! Do you hear me? Never again!"

I heard her gargle, and saw the way he was closing his hands around her neck in his rage. In a desperate attempt to stop him, I stumble towards Francesco and tried to pull him away.

"Stop it!"

He didn't hear me. "You won't tell me what to do, you mischievous old hag! Never again!"

I saw death drawing closer in Isabella's fear-stained eyes, and I completely forget how unsettling I had considered her. This wasn't about favours and dislikes anymore, or about reason, for that matter. It was pure instinct. At least that is the only way I can explain to myself why I reacted the way I did: I bit Francesco. Like a lioness I drove my teeth into his arm until I felt the strange metallic sensation of blood in my mouth, and he let go off his aunt with an angry yowl.

We both fell to the floor, as did Isabella. My heart beating like it was about to explode in my chest, I slowly wiped away the blood from my lips.

"What have you done…" I whispered, and didn't know whether I was asking Francesco or myself.

"What have you done," another, much stronger voice echoed.

I looked up to find Ferrante standing in the door, his eyes gliding over the horrible scene in this room like an eagle. He bowed over the body of his mother.

"I… She… I didn't… Is she…" Francesco stammered.

"Dead? Yes, she is dead, for God's sake," Ferrante yelled at him. "So I'll ask you one last time, cousin: what have you done?"

Francesco flinched, no longer as angry as he had been but rather completely wrapped up in shock. "I… I didn't… it was her fault!" He pointed at me. "She's fornicating with her own uncle!"

Ferrante rose to his feet in the speed of a madman. "And if she was fornicating with the whole legatine court – I wouldn't care! This is my mother, Francesco, and she is dead! You have killed her!"

"I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, so that is your excuse? You didn't mean to, but you were what, upset that your bride-to-be might actually like men with balls in their pants?" Ferrante grabbed his cousin by the collar and pulled him to his feet again. "You murdered your own kin!"

Francesco whimpered. "I know, I…"

Ferrante let go off him, and turned around, pulling his fingers through his hair. Many years later, I would know this was his usual gesture when he was thinking really hard, but back then, of course I had no clue. I just sat there on the floor, still shocked by what had happened.

"You'll help me carry her," Ferrante suddenly told his cousin. "And you, Your Highness, must lead the way. She must not be found here, under any circumstances."

I don't know how I picked myself up, or whether it was just his convincing tone that made me obey. With a beating heart I led them through the hallways, these two men carrying the dead body of their own kinswoman. I tried very hard not to think about the awful situation I had manoeuvred myself into. Having reached Isabella's room, we carefully placed her in her bed and put the blankets over her.

"I'll find a doctor who won't ask too many questions," Ferrante said, rather to himself. "And you will never speak about anything that transpired tonight. Never. Do you understand me?"

Francesco, who had seemed rather absent-minded, now looked at his cousin, and the flames of anger returned to his eyes.

"But she… I found her with her own uncle…"

Ferrante, too, was angry now. "Yes, and if you told anyone, it would cause a nice little scandal. One that you would not be able to witness, because you would be HANGED! You killed my mother! And if you don't want this scandal to rip our family apart, and to cost you your head, you will keep that foolish mouth of yours shut forever! Do you get me now?"

Francesco stared at him in shock, but his cousin wouldn't desist.

"Say it."

"I… I will never speak about this night again."

"Good. I'll make sure you'll die an agonizing death if you ever forget that promise," Ferrante hissed. "Now go back to bed and try to appear clueless on the morrow. God knows, you had better stay away for good, seeing how awfully bad you are at hiding your feelings. Go now."

Francesco trotted away like a beaten dog, but I felt no sympathy. All the time I had been staring at the lifeless body of Isabella, unable to form a clear thought. Now, however, I realized I was alone with Ferrante, and I felt the urge to say something.

"I believe I owe you thanks, my Lord."

"Oh, you owe me much more than that," he returned darkly, but then smiled suddenly. "But lucky for you, I think you will soon get the chance to repay me. I hear your father's court has lacked an Italian ambassador for some time, and after all these painful memories…" He looked towards his mother's corpse. "… I think I could use a change of place."

I gulped, but accepted. It was a reasonable price for saving my ass. "I will most certainly point out your talents to the King once I return. I am sure he will want to foster the good relationships between England and the Italian states."

"Wonderful," Ferrante said cheerfully, as if his mother hadn't just been killed. "Then you, too, should return, and perhaps to your own rooms and not to anyone else's."

The insinuation was clear, and I nodded. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, Your Highness. Oh, and Princess? I expect you will also never speak to any mortal soul about the events of this night… or am I mistaken?"

"No," I shook my head. "Your lordship is absolutely right. Nothing happened tonight."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37 – In which George, the King and I received unbelievable news**

The incident at the country house put an end to my time in Italy. Of course, the whole matter was downplayed. Duke Ercole seemed especially eager to make sure the "sad affair" of his "aged aunt dying in her sleep" didn't cause public acknowledgment. But the entire night had ruined the mood for me, for George, and for everyone, it seemed. Instead of staying until my birthday, I hastily packed my things and told my hosts that, while I was forever grateful for their hospitality, I would now have to return home.

So on my 23rd birthday, I found myself sitting on a vessel somewhere near the French coast. It was damp and wavering and lonely, and I didn't like one second of my journey. Well, except the moment when I opened the parcel Duchess Renee had given me as a gift.

"Open it on your birthday," she had asked of me, and I would do her the favour.

As I unwrapped the folds of cloth, a shining red ruby brooch emerged, accompanied by a letter. It read:

"Dear Princess Mary,

It is with great sadness that my husband and I are watching you leave, for we have considered it an honour beyond words to house you within our home. To welcome you again one day, under more preferable circumstances, would be my greatest joy. In the meantime, I wish you all the happiness for your birthday, and hope that you shall find whatever it is that you wish for. Please accept this little token as a sign of our friendship, for I hope I shall be able to call you a friend just as I once did your stepmother.

This brooch used to belong to my dear mother-in-law, and it is highly unusual for my husband to let go off it, since everything of her is so important to his heart. But once I had told him that you, unlike so many others, were able to see the qualities of Madonna Lucrezia, and that you admired her strength and grace, Ercole changed his mind. He wishes for you to have this, as he believes his mother, too, would have given it to you freely. May you wear it with the same pride as she once did.

With my best wishes,

Renee, Duchess of Ferrara"

Smiling as fondly as I had not in a very long time, I put away the letter and looked at the brooch again. It was simple, yet elegant, and if you didn't know its story, you would have never taken it for something special. But for me, it was. It belonged to a woman whose name went down in history, and I was trying to achieve just that.

As I watched the flickering light of my candle bring the gem to glowing life, I promised myself just that. And as it would turn out, eventually, I would wear the brooch on every major state occasion from now on. Some resourceful historian in the distant future would notice it in pictures, and research its history, and write a lengthy paper about the connections between Mary Tudor and Lucrezia Borgia, I was sure of it. The idea made me smile.

I was here to change the future, and I had strayed from that path for too long now.

I picked myself up, put on the brooch, and went to knock on the door of the little chamber George had received on this ship. He didn't seem particularly happy to see me, but perhaps, it was only the motion of the sea.

"There is something we should speak about… must speak about before we reach the English shores," I began.

He frowned. "I was under the impression that you couldn't tell me what exactly happened that night. Were those not your words?"

"I said I WOULDN'T tell you. There's a difference. I made a promise, and it is better for you anyway," I corrected him. "But this isn't what we need to speak about. We… we need to end this, this, whatever it is that we have. We both know it's…"

Unlawful? Immoral? Going to anger my father?

"Impossible," George concluded on his own. He sighed and drew closer to me. "I do know that, but tell me, Princess… why do you always come to me then? Why must you torment me?"

I withdrew. "I shouldn't have. I know. I knew it wasn't going to end well, yet still…"

"Oh, yes, of course. Another of your mysterious visions," he interrupted me in a very sarcastic voice.

"No, this is nothing to do with… my visions!"

"Oh, but I thought everything did? Need I remind you that YOU came to ME, back then, to tell me what would happen if I didn't help you fake my sister's death? That you drove me away to the continent, ultimately making me a bloody war hero? And now you're telling me that this, this affair between us, was not part of your plan? Why, what is this…"

"Please stop," I begged. "This was foolish, I know, but I'm not perfect."

Angrily, he slammed his fist against the ship walls. "Then tell me what you've seen! Tell me what happens if we continue this."

"I couldn't."

"You couldn't or you wouldn't," he insinuated. "Whatever secret and mysterious connection it is that you have with the heavens, do you not think it is high time you gave me a little more than just glimpses? All this talk of the dark days to come…"

I, too, was feeling somewhat angry now. "It was all true!"

"Then why won't you tell me what you know?" George almost yelled.

"Because you wouldn't understand! You can't understand! It's impossible!"

He came closer in an instant, wrapping one arm around me, his eyes searching mine in the desperate hope for answers.

"Why not? Tell me, Mary, why not?"

"Nobody could understand this," I whispered.

He seemed truly distraught by now. His voice was nothing more than a whisper as well. "Try me."

I breathed in. I breathed out. I pushed away all other thoughts. Then I began.

"I made a pact. With… God, I assume, or maybe… an angel, or maybe the devil himself, I don't know. Actually… actually I have never bothered to ask. I was so sure I could do better, if only I was given a chance. You see, I promised to change the future of England, of Tudor England, for the better! I was certain that with a mind like mine, with my knowledge, I could change things! And I did, I mean I… you… we…"

George remained remarkably calm, but raised an eyebrow. "A mind like yours?"

"A modern mind," I gasped in defeat, and when I noticed the confusion in his eyes, I added: "I was born in 1986."

A moment of silence followed.

"Nineteen…?"

"Nineteen-eighty-six," I repeated nodding. "More than four hundred years from now. I took what I knew and was sent here. See, it is impossible to understand! Nobody would believe me, but I knew it all, not from some dark visions, but from history books! So many sorrows, woes and deaths, and I tried hard to avoid them but now…"

His eyes stared at me like dark hollows. "Four hundred…"

"You wanted to hear the truth, and I warned you, yet you…"

"No, you're right," he interrupted me and let go off me as if he had burned his hand. "I wanted to hear the truth and you gave it to me. You want to end this between us, and I will be gone. Good night, Your Highness."

With these words, he left me abruptly, not even listening to my protest that this was actually HIS cabin that we had been standing in.

I didn't hear another private word from him again during our journey, and would not hear one for many months.

When we arrived back at court, I tried very hard to appear regal and happy and to mask the thoughts in my head, which could easily be summed up in one word: CRAP. But it didn't take me long to work up a convincing pretence, and when I finally saw my father and the Queen again, I didn't have to pretend any longer.

"Mary, my pearl," Henry said jovially and embraced me.

"Your Majesties, I am so happy to be back."

"And we are happy to have you," the Queen returned as I embraced her. "Especially now."

I frowned, not understanding what she meant, but then I noticed the kind of dress she wore, and the way she was holding herself. An involuntary smile forced itself upon my lips.

"You're with child," I exclaimed. "My God, this is wonderful news!"

"It is, isn't it, my love," my father agreed, taking his wife's hand into his. "And you, Mary, must now stay at court to assist and support your stepmother. Just as you did before."

"Of course, Your Majesty, nothing would please me more!"

"Good," he said and kissed my forehead. "Come to me later, so we may speak."

I did just that, not even taking much time to resettle into my own apartments. Whatever he wanted to talk about was certainly more important – and more interesting – than my sulking thoughts about the disastrous end of my relationship with George. Anything but that!

"Ah, Mary," my father said gleefully, turning away from the fireplace he had been staring in. "It is so good to have you back early. Though I was surprised to hear about it. Was anything amiss in Italy?"

"No, no, Father, you needn't worry," I assured him. "Duke Ercole and Duchess Renee were wonderful hosts. You should like to meet them and their children. And the Duchess has spoken with such kindness of the Queen, whom it appears she knows from their shared time at the French court. We are all invited to Ferrara to come and see the wonders of Italy."

Henry smiled. "Good. I would not have been pleased to hear that my daughter has been treated unkindly."

"Not at all. In fact, I'd like to think I have found a friend in the Duchess. And I have also met a man, Father…"

"A man," he interrupted me quizzically. "What man?"

"Not that kind of man, papa," I reprimanded him, shortly forgetting that it was the King I was speaking to. "He's married already. But he is a man of many talents, and well-connected. I was wondering if we might invite an Italian ambassador to court. It might do us well to have a member of the Gonzaga family with us."

The King frowned. "Gonzaga? Not d'Este?"

"Their cousin. His mother was Duke Ercole's aunt. She… she passed away a few weeks ago, and I feel so sad about it, Father. I wish we could do something to help Signor Ferrante. He needs a new perspective."

"And you see him in England? At my court?" My father sounded suspicious, but a second later, he smiled. "Well, if he was able to convince you, perhaps I should have the man investigated. England could do well with some continental friends, after all, you're right. Well done, my pearl. But now…" He opened his arms and smiled even more broadly. "I need your counsel."

"My counsel?" Unfortunately, I wasn't able to hide the surprise in my voice.

"Yes of course, daughter. You have proven yourself to be most able in many regards, and in this especially, I will need your feminine view. It concerns your siblings."

I took the seat he was pointing to, simply saying: "Oh."

Henry, too, sat down and began. "As you are now aware, there will be a new addition to the royal cradle before summer is out. I'm afraid one more will be one too much for Lady Bryan."

"Poor old lady, her two current wards are already a handful," I agreed grinning.

"Yes, they are, aren't they," my father returned, beaming more proudly than ever. "And since Hatfield might be somewhat crowded then, I was wondering who to appoint new governess to your sister. Elizabeth will turn six this year, and she is growing up so fast. Soon, she will need more than a nursemaid, but a woman, a true governess, to teach her how to be a genuine princess – like you."

I blushed, even though I didn't want it. "And Your Majesty has already come up with possible candidates?"

He nodded. "I would have you investigate my list, and tell me what you think. I have not yet spoken to the Queen, for I would not upset her, so if you find any unsettling suggestion…"

"I'll cross it out," I finished his sentence for him.

Henry smiled happily and passed me a piece of parchment to study. I only briefly glanced at it, and seeing the name Champernowne on it, I knew which way history would be going. Should be going. But wasn't I here to find a better way? Sure, Kat Ashley had been good for the historical Elizabeth, but then Elizabeth's true childhood had not been particularly happy, had it? Perhaps I could do better?

"Has Your Majesty considered asking the Marquess of Kensington?"

"What, Catherine?" His features froze.

"Yes. She is known to be very kind with children, and no one knows a princess's education better than her," I tried to convince him.

"No," he adamantly refused. "No, Mary, you can't think that. Catherine would never agree."

"Have you asked her?" I returned. "You have seen her at Christmas, and you have made your peace with her. Is it so hard to believe that she might say yes?"

"Your mother is a proud woman, Mary, and fiercely stubborn. She would never… she wouldn't…"

"What? Raise the daughter of her rival?" I rose from my chair. "While I fully understand Your Majesty's reservation, I think the idea is worth a try. You have not seen what I have seen, how naturally and happily my mother has played with Princess Elizabeth. And Elizabeth, she… she considers Catherine her aunt, and my mother did not object! Why not ask her? If… I just think that maybe, this is what needs to be done for us to truly be a family at last. For my mother to make her peace with Anne's children, and for the Queen to make peace with her predecessor. Please."

I dropped to my knees before the King and took his hand into mine.

"Please, Father, say that you will give it a try."

Henry looked at me in a renunciatory way, then happily, then sadly.

"I don't see how she would agree," he then said in a low voice.

"But you can try, papa. Give her a chance to surprise you."

He seemed to ponder the matter long, and in the meantime offered me to rise again. Then he sighed.

"I only want what is best for Elizabeth."

"And this could be good," I assured him. "My mother's influence helped shape me, and you have no cause to be disappointed in my upbringing, have you?"

"No," he agreed smiling. "You are my pearl, a true precious gem in my crown. I would want no less for Elizabeth."

I nodded. "Then promise me you'll ask her."

Henry rose from his chair and took my hand. "I will, though I shall expect nothing."

"No more did I ask."

"It is a promise, then." The King nodded. "Now, daughter, what say you – what should we name your little brother or sister?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38 – In which I was covered in blood and honey**

I wish I had acted sooner. When I returned from Italy, having just witnessed a brutal yet unfortunate murder, having just rebuffed my best friend by telling him the whole truth, I felt somewhat lost. I should not have – I was still the King's most beloved daughter, the pearl of his court, and I would soon have another sibling in the cradle. The Queen's pregnancy was a great joy to everyone – especially to myself, knowing that without my intervention, this child could have never existed. But seeing how happy it made Anne, and my father, I knew I had done the right thing.

I decided to focus on that, and forget about the dark pressing problems that were ailing me. I chose to ignore the fact that George left court under some sloppy pretence only days after we returned. I ignored the incoming offers for my hand. It was foolish, but then again, it wasn't the first foolish thing I did. Looking back now, it is easy to rationalize my behaviour as a reaction to the immense pressure my schemes had put on me, but if I have learned one thing, it's this: the answer to complex problems is never that easy.

Actually, not many things are easy at all.

Take my proposition that Catherine should become my half-sister's governess, for example. I had actually hoped that all my efforts had changed her attitude towards my father's new marriage and children. I had hoped to give her peace and happiness by bringing her together with Elizabeth.

"She declined the offer," my father however told me.

I pretended then that I had anticipated it, saying things like "Well, it was worth trying" and "This way, she knows of the high regard in which you and the Queen both hold her", but it wasn't true. I had hoped she would agree, and close the gaps her many stillbirths had left in her heart. She didn't, and I was disappointed. Not only in my ability to judge other people's characters, but also in my power to change things.

Was that not what I had come here for? To change things for the better? Then why was fate working against me, time and time again?

To bury these thoughts, I focused on the growing life inside the Queen's belly. As I had done during her twin pregnancy, I spend a lot of time with Anne, and also her sister Mary, who had been called away from her own family to assist the Queen. It was a good time, a happy time.

I should have known I would have to pay for this ignorant bliss sooner or later.

My first hint at trouble should have been when the Queen began to ask about her absent brother, Duke George. It was a lovely day in early summer, in June, I think, and we had gone outside for a walk. She was not yet too heavy to walk easily, and I had insisted the fresh air would do her good. So Mary, Anne and I had taken to the gardens.

"If only George where here," Mary remarked.

"Oh, yes, I would cherish his light-hearted jests," the Queen agreed smiling. "The King has asked him to return, but apparently, his duties still keep him away."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "I wonder what duties he has, now that his wife is dead."

They both stopped, and I, barely having listened to them, almost stumbled into the Queen. She looked at me in a strange fashion I could not decipher. Was it haughtiness? Curiosity? Anger?

"You would know," she said dead certain.

I began to mumble. "Your Majesty, I am not quite aware of what you are speaking…"

"My brother, George. You were with him in Italy, before he left. And it would appear that he has grown fond of you as if you were a sister to him. You would know what is keeping him, would you not?" The Queen looked at me with those eyes… dark hooks for the soul. "What happened in Italy?"

"I, um… Majesty, I believe I have told you all about the sad events that made us return precipitously."

Mary nodded. "The dead Lady Isabella, how unfortunate."

"Yes, yes, we've heard all about it," the Queen waved my words away. "But I can hardly imagine my dear brother being affected by it so. Come now, princess… we have been family, nay, allies for so long. Surely you know more than you let on."

I began to tremble. Oh God, I thought, what if she KNOWS? Anne and her sister exchanged glances. Mary nodded.

"Princess, it honours you that you should keep our brother's secrets so fiercely, but… but he is just that. Our brother. Our blood. There is nothing that needs to be kept from us," Mary assured me.

The Queen now chimed in, giving me no chance to react. "It is Francesco d'Este, isn't it?"

My eyes opened wide.

"Oh, dear Mary, do not act coy with us. We are no strangers to our brother's more… delicate desires. And I for once have seen the way young Francesco leered at him. Something happened, didn't it?"

I felt like someone was strangling all the air from my lungs.

"Dear Lord, is it that frivolous," Mary dared to ask.

My hands suddenly felt cold and numb. "I… please, my Queen, make me not speak of it. The matter is difficult."

"Did our brother misbehave?"

"No," I blurted out all of a sudden, which only increased their curiosity. "No, Lord George was a perfect gentleman."

"It is 'Lord' George, now? From the way he spoke of you, I had begun to imagine that you had accepted each other as family," Mary gentle interjected. "Has something happened between you? Was he ungallant?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. If anything, it was me who did not show him the proper respect. I should have been more helpful, should have supported and explained, I…"

The Queen touched my shoulder, instantly stopping the words tumbling from my mouth.

"Mary. I am certain whatever went wrong was not your fault. George has always been his own master, and he will come around. He always will. Especially when his nephew is born," she said, placing a hand on her swelling belly.

Her sister now smiled. "You feel it's a son?"

"Actually, I feel less sure than I was with Edward. Though my gracious husband has explicitly told me that he would not mind another daughter. He is smitten with Elizabeth."

"And with his eldest daughter, I presume," Mary added, looking once again at me.

I tried to blush.

The Queen nodded. "He has every reason to be. There is no prince in Europe so blessed with his children as King Henry, and he knows it."

"Your Majesty is too kind," I said under my breath.

Then, suddenly, the Queen grabbed my hand. "No, Mary," she said firmly. Her eyes glimmered darkly. "Not after all you have done for me and my children."

"I am ever at your service, Majesty."

"And I shall take you by your word, stepdaughter. The King has already agreed that you shall stay with me during this pregnancy as you did during my last. For better or for worse, I shall place my fate and that of your sibling in your hands, and those of my dear sister." She took her sister's hand into her free hand, and smiled. "Two Marys for me. I need nothing else."

Apparently, she meant it. A few years prior, I would not have believed Anne Boleyn speaking of me as fondly as she did of her sister, but now I had no more reason to distrust her. I was the reason she lived, after all. She owed me… and I her. For Elizabeth. For Edward. We were now bound together by fate, and I would do whatever lay within my powers to help her.

Little did I know that my powers might have been too limited this time.

The Queen went into labour on a very stormy day, several weeks earlier than every physician had anticipated. Her water broke while were stitching in her apartments, and I distinctly remember what we spoke about before. It was her brother again, only this time, we were alone. The Queen was much blunter with me when there was no one around.

"Did he love Francesco?"

I almost dropped my needle. "Forgive me, Majesty. Who?"

"My brother. Did they have an affair? You need to tell me. If he is sulking, or aching, I wish to help. He is my brother. Would you not feel the same about Edward?"

"I… I would. Certainly. But I am afraid I cannot help Your Majesty. As far as I know, whatever there was between your brother and Signor Francesco was… a misunderstanding. Francesco saw opportunities where there were none. He imagined things… and he overreacted."

The Queen nodded quietly. "I see."

"I truly do not believe the mishap with Francesco is troubling Lord George. Whatever it is that ails him, I believe he must overcome it on his own. He is the hero of Europe, after all. Why would he not overcome it?"

"Of course, of course," she replied, but then her smile faded. "If you knew, you would tell me, would you not? Because I do feel that your loyalties are shifting, Mary, from the Queen you are bound to obey, to others…"

For a second, I was afraid, but then a vicious little smirk entered her face.

"I am only pinching you a little, dear stepdaughter. Don't look so frightened. I would never complain about you being loyal to members of my family. It is more than I ever wished for. If my father knew…"

"… he would straight away have me marry George," I ended her sentence with a dash of irony, only to be shocked by my own words a second after.

Queen Anne burst into laughter. "Oh yes, certainly! And while the King would never stand for it, dear, I believe you could do much worse. George is a good man."

"He is," I whispered.

Then, her laughter turned into a sound of agony. She opened her eyes wide, sending another shock through my mind.

"I think it is time," she managed to press out. Then she wailed again.

Things progressed quickly from then on. I screamed for the Queen's ladies, and they helped me carry her to bed. The physicians were sent for, as were the midwives. Someone had to inform the King, and the Queen's sister, and prepare hot water and handkerchiefs. Someone. Not me.

I got myself a chair and sat next to the bed, holding the Queen's hand in mine as I reminded her of how to breathe slowly and evenly. Usually, I guess, births start rather slowly, with contractions coming every few minutes, but this time, it wasn't like that Anne was shaken by painful lightning bolts every minute or so.

"It's too fast," she cried. "This is wrong!"

"Don't worry, Majesty, it will all be fine," I tried to reassure her – or myself?

She shook her head. "Where are the physicians?"

You ought to be glad these quacks are not here, I wanted to say, but considered it wiser to keep these thoughts to myself. They had already not taken too kindly to my attempts at reviving Michael all these years ago. They would certainly not approve of me calling them quacks.

"Mary, sister!"

The Queen's sister rushed in the chamber, followed by a midwife, who immediately set to work between the Queen's legs.

"You're already two fingers along, my Queen. Keep pushing. It will be a quick birth."

"It HURTS!"

Her sister grabbed Anne's other hand and smiled. "And yet you will pull through. For this little one, the babe you will love just as much as Edward and Elizabeth. What will you name him?"

"Henry," the Queen panted. "Or Eleanor, for a girl."

"Then do it for them. Henry or Eleanor," Mary assured her.

"Three fingers along, Majesty. This is progressing well," the midwife said, but after it, I could hear her whisper something to her assistant. I didn't understand it all, but the word "rip" was in there, and I didn't like it.

"Focus on the breathing," Mary Boleyn said.

The Queen didn't like the attempts at being comforted, however. "I AM FOCUSING!"

"Don't be mad, my Queen, we are only talking to hide that we are much more nervous than you," I interjected dryly.

Between two contractions, I actually saw the Queen smile. "Hah," she said, but before she could say more, another pain ripped through her.

"The head's crowning, it's crowning," the midwife cheerfully announced. "Just a few more pushes!"

"You can do it, Anne, you've always been the strongest of us," Mary added.

The Queen continued to cry as if she was being ripped apart, and for a while I felt absolutely sure I would never go through this. Never. Not in a thousand years. Damn King Henry and his legacy, why would anyone do this voluntarily? But then I heard a wail, another one's wail, and just like the Queen's face lit up, my heart filled with warmth.

"He's crying, see, everything's alright," Mary whispered to her sister, who began to cry tears of exhaustion.

A bloody little bundle was passed from the midwife to one of the ladies, and wrapped in fine white clothing. I rose and turned to the midwife.

"Is the babe healthy?"

"Yes, ask the ladies," she all but barked back.

Stupefied, I decided against knowing about my sibling, and instead focused on the woman trying to clean up the mess between the Queen's legs.

"Is something amiss?"

"She's bleeding," the midwife sighed. "I need to stop the bleeding."

I leant over the bed to catch a glimpse of what was going on… and suddenly found myself fighting the urge to vomit. God in Heaven, what had that little babe done to her? Of course, being an educated woman, I had heard about perineal ruptures… but this looked horrible. Her skin was torn and broken and ripped, and fresh hot blood was seeping on the sheets. The midwife was trying to mop up the blood, but apparently, it was unwilling to stop. The physicians were nowhere in sight, and even if they had been, I was certain they would not have been particularly helpful. So many women had died of childbed infections in Tudor times, without any physician being able to do anything about it. Even if we did manage to stop Anne's bleeding, this would probably be her fate.

Oh, what would I not have done for a good dose of penicillin!

"You," I stopped a maidservant instead. "Bring me needles and thread. Fine, but stable thread. And you, bring a bowl of boiling water. Boiling, do you hear me? Not just hot, boiling! And you, bring cloth! And a jar of honey!"

I suddenly felt like my brain was acting on autopilot. There wasn't much time for contemplating, after all. Either I acted or the Queen died for sure. Mary caught my gaze and realized that it would now be her job to keep the Queen still, but awake. She began to whisper caressing words into her sister's ear.

"Are you sure it is boiling," I asked the maid who brought the water to me.

"Y… yes, Princess."

"Good, then throw in the needles and yarn. Make sure to boil them. Scalding hot!"

The midwife, handing over bloody linens to another maid, looked at me puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to save the Queen. Keep dabbing away the blood, and step aside once we're ready." I felt rather bossy by now. "Good, ladies, now bring me the needles and thread."

It was painful to take them out of the water, but I knew they had to boil. Burn away all those nasty germs that no one but me knew of. With my heart beating like a drum, I tried to fumble a thread into the needle. I couldn't, but fortunately, Nan Saville lent me a hand. Then, I ordered the midwife to step aside.

"What are you… Your Highness, no!"

"It is the only way," I barked at her. "Now step aside."

"For the love of Christ, I cannot condone…"

"Step aside," Mary Boleyn chimed in harshly, and now, the midwife did as she was told.

I felt little pearls of sweat forming on my forehead as I crawled upon the bed and dived between the Queen's legs.

I shouldn't be here, I thought. I should have never been here in the first place, in this time, in this situation. This is all so wrong. But my only other option was letting her die without even trying, and that seemed infinitely worse. So I allowed the adrenaline kick to take over my brain and pushed the needle through her skin.

For the first few stitches, the Queen cried out loud, but then the constant ache as well as her sister's words seemed to dull down the feeling.

"Swab the blood," I ordered Nan Saville occasionally. It was the only thought I had apart from "so that's what all these hours of stitching were good for".

I can't remember how long it took me, probably only a few minutes, but sitting there sweating between her bleeding legs felt like ages. When I finally let go off the needle, I handed it back and asked for the honey instead.

Nan Saville seemed highly sceptical, but refused to voice her thoughts. Instead, she passed me the jar.

"What is it for…?" Mary Boleyn whispered to me.

"Do you trust me?" I returned. She nodded. "Then trust me with this and keep the Queen awake. It won't be much longer."

They most likely thought me crazy, all of them. Heck, I thought it myself, but what other choice was there? I had no penicillin, no sterile patches, no nothing. An insane amount of sugar, such as can be found in honey, was the only disinfectant I could quickly think of. After all, viscous honey was a substance that couldn't moulder or decay. Applying it to Anne's freshly stitched wound was certainly no disinfectant wound paste, but better than nothing.

When I withdrew from the bed, blood-stained and honey-smeared, I found myself faced by many quizzical ladies.

"Pray," I simply said. "Pray for Her Majesty's health. That is all we have left for now."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39 – In which I took the great risk of disclosing my true feelings**

"She was meant to die, was she not?"

I heard the words, but it felt like forever until I grasped their meaning. The silence around me was deafening in the meantime. What was I to answer to this?

"My sister, I mean… already back in 1536, when we saved her, she was bound to die. Do not deny it. I did not truly take your words seriously at the time, even though the evidence was plain to see… God, I should have seen it. But now I do. Now I see. It was fate, and you knew, because you know it all. The future holds no mysteries for you because it is… the past."

George spoke clearly, slowly, and without malice. There was no accusation in his tone, only realization. A few months ago, I would have revelled at his acceptance of my true background, but now, it paled in comparison to the more pressing matter of the Queen and my sibling. So I simply nodded.

"I have so many questions." He sighed. "But I shan't ask them. No man should know what you know. You have already spoken about so much… I know enough. I know I shouldn't be here. I ought to have died with her, right?"

Once more, all I could do was nod.

"And you prevented it. Saved her. Saved me. Tell me, how many more did you protect?"

"No more than I condemned," I returned. "The Seymours' heads were my doing. They would have lost them eventually, but I just had to set right what they had done. And your wife… I feel it was my fault as well."

"No, no," he interrupted me. "You yourself told me Jane would have died before her time. Did you not?"

"I did."

He gulped. "How?"

"You… you said you wouldn't want to know things beyond your scope."

"And yet I need to ask this, if anything. How would she have died?"

"Beheaded at the pleasure of the King," I replied dryly. "For arranging an affair between his groom and his fifth queen."

George's eyes widened. "Fifth…?"

"I changed much, just as you said. Let us leave it at that."

He swallowed the information I had given him and nodded.

"I… I think I understand now, Princess. Why you are as you are, so clever, so brash, so charming… tell me, are all women of your… time… like you?"

His words caused me to smile. "Not, not all of them. Although I think we are brasher in general. If… if you ever wish to know, I shall tell you all about it, but today is not the day. My heart is preoccupied, I'm afraid."

"The Queen." It wasn't a question. "You've saved her life back then. Without you, now, the princess would have never been born. I trust she is well?"

I frowned. "Have you not yet checked?"

"I'm afraid not. As soon as word reached me of… of my sister, I rushed here. The King would not receive me, no one would, actually, so I turned to you. Forgive me, Princess, but you are the only one I can safely turn to."

"No offense taken. Princess Eleanor is healthy and well. The wet-nurses are taking care of her and keep me informed. So far, the King has only visited her once. I think he cannot bear the sight of her, even though he must love her. She is his little girl, after all."

"And she is here because of you. If I knew any words to express my gratitude for my niece's life, I would… but I am afraid there is nothing in our language for this weird situation that we are in. After all, you're a princess and I'm… I'm… not even sure who you are in truth. Before you came here… before… and yet, it matters not. It should not matter. What matters is what you do, my lady, for my family, and for England. I see now why you treated me as you did… and I shall not begrudge you for it. First, I assumed you were toying with me, but now I understand. I see why you would refuse me, even if you held me in as high regard as my heart holds you."

"George, I…"

"Please, no," he said, biting his lip. "Don't try to conciliate me. It is not needed. I see now why you are here, and that your holy mission is far more important than anything I might ever feel for you. It is a sweet folly, but just that, foolish. Nothing compared to the life of my sister, or Eleanor."

"Or Edward," I added whispering, half in thought.

"Him, too? He wouldn't be…" George stopped.

Slowly, hesitantly, I shook my head. "Only Elizabeth."

"Only Elizabeth… but then the King… he would have cut off…" His words trailed away, and when he didn't see me object, he gulped another time. "Thank God you're here. Please, I beg you, never leave. For the love of Christ, stay with us. It is only thanks to you that my sister still clings to life."

"And God only knows for how long," I added grimly. Anne had been slipping in and out of consciousness for four days now.

"At least she is breathing. I am sure that without you, she wouldn't be. She was meant to die, and fate is trying time and time again. Thank you, Princess, for fending it off," he said solemnly, putting me to shame by going down on one knee. "I promise you, with whatever little talents I have, I shall always assist and support you. I am your servant, now and forever."

What was I to say? I blushed, most likely.

"And I shall never stand between you and England's fate again, I swear. I see now that our dalliance is a distraction to your cause. I understand now that there are others who need you more than I, and after… after what happened to Jane, I swore not to be selfish again. I shall let you go."

No, my heart wanted to scream, but my mind told me he was right. Had he been at court, I might have been so caught up in flirting that I would not have been waiting upon the Queen. I might not have been there in time to stitch her back together. Now, she might still pull through, survive, but with George here, she probably wouldn't have, and it would've been my fault.

"How?" I whispered.

"Once there is news of the Queen's health, I shall go to the King and ask permission to retire from court. I shall not return unless ordered, or unless you need my assistance. I shall withdraw and live a private life."

"There is no need for that. You are a man of court, George, I know you love it."

"And yet… I love you more," he pressed out sadly. "Forgive me, Princess, I should not have said that, but it is the truth. I can serve you, but I cannot sit by and watch you parade around in court. I cannot stand by and smile as I watch you walk down the aisle with another, another fool like that Philipp, another man who knows nothing of the greatness he is about to behold… no. Forgive me, but that I cannot do. I shall go to the King as soon as the Queen is better… or with God."

I felt paralyzed. Torn. Ripped apart by his words, his honesty, his devotion. Half of me wanted to run after him, half of me wanted to stay away. And yet… Could I just let him go? Pretend I felt nothing, that I was only here for England's sake? Was there no other way? I wanted to tell him that if only he stayed, he would never have to watch me walk down the aisle. I would die a spinster if that's what it took, and if God forbid anything happened to Edward, I'd do as real Elizabeth had done. Mary the Virgin Queen. Why not?

But when I saw him turn around, my lips acted before my brain could rein them in.

"Then go to the King, and when you do… fall on your knees." I stopped, and he turned around again, looking at me puzzled. "Drop to your knees and weep before him. Cry to him that you would rather die than be parted from me another day, for that is what it takes."

"Mary, I don't understand…"

"Beg him for my hand, or to cut off your head instead and give you a quick, painless end of your misery. That's what he told me needed to be done in order for any man to be approved of… as my husband."

Now he frowned. "Why? Why… now?"

Suddenly, after I had been quiet for so long, the words came tumbling from my lips. "Because you're right, my cause is important, gravely so, and yet I can no longer bear to sacrifice everything. My life, my dreams, my happiness… I do not want that. I don't want to die old and alone, I don't want to fight every battle on my own. You… you know. You know me, my secrets, and you know my heart. You know you've always been dear to me. If I cannot have you, if I cannot have a small measure of happiness, then what am I fighting for?"

We exchanged glances full of questions, of emotions, of doubts. I knew not where these words had come from, but now they were born I would not deny their parentage. I had said them. I had meant them.

"If you truly mean it…"

"I do," I interrupted him.

"Then I shall do as you wish."

I shook my head, and reached out a hand to him. He took it hesitantly.

"Don't do it for me, to serve me, or to please me. Do it only if you wish to."

A smile worked its way on his lips. "It would be nothing if not the truth," he said quietly, daring to come a little closer. "If there was ever a chance to be with you, to work with you, to… hold you… to be yours and you'd be mine, even if only for a day, I'd die a happy man."

"I would rather you did not die," I returned, now smiling as well.

We would have kissed then, I was certain of it, but a knock on the door interrupted us. Cecily dashed in, barely waiting for my approval.

"Your Highness, forgive me, but… it's the Queen."

Both of us rushed around in curious fury. "Speak!"

"She has awoken," Cecily breathed out smiling. "She has asked to see the King, and the Princess Eleanor. The physicians think she has pulled through."

"God," George whispered.

"Ring the bells at once," I, too, voiced my happiness. "Let it be known to all of England that the Lord in His mercy has spared their queen, and given them a bonny princess as well. We must celebrate!"

Cecily curtseyed. "At once, Your Highness."

"Can you believe it?" George looked at me with tears in his eyes, and once I shook my head, he stumbled towards me and embraced me. "Praise the Lord."

I hugged him back, relief washing over me like a flood wave.

"You know what it means, now," I whispered in his ear.

"That you made it, Mary. You have saved her once more."

"Yes, but that is not what I was referring too," I returned. "Once he returns from the Queen, you must go to my father. You made a promise. Go and use the happy mood he must be in, for he is far less likely to cut off your head then. I would hate for you to lose it."

He slowly let go off me, and smiled at my face. "So would I."

"Promise me you'll convince him. Wail, cry, beg, if you must."

George nodded. "I'll rip open my shirt if need be. Now go and take care of your sister. The Princess must be prepared to be presented to her mother. It is long due." With that, he placed a kiss on my forehead.

It was chaste and sweet, and absolutely fitting in this situation. I smiled as I watched him leave, and found myself actually praying that he would make good on his promise, and convince the King. Now that I had admitted my feelings for him, and my wish to never be alone again, there was no going back. I had kept it in so long to avoid disappointment, but now the stakes were high. I had decided to gamble, and it was up to my father to decide whether or not I would lose.

Somehow, I had to distract my mind, so I did as he had suggested and rushed to my little sister's nursery. I ordered the maids to wash her and clothe her in the finest garments, and watching them with eagle eyes as they obeyed.

She had Anne's hair, I noticed with a smile. I had not seen it before, but now I saw that little Eleanor was growing a fine tuft of dark hair. Her face was unmistakably Tudor, however.

"My sister," I whispered as she was placed in my arms. The girl who should have never been born. Not even I could know what was to happen to her. Would she die young, or rise to become a queen? Would she create history, or be forgotten? "My Nellie."

Then, with my head held high and my shoulders straightened, I took my little sister to the Queen's apartments. Not through the secret corridors, as we had done before. Through the hallways, and the main hall, forcing all of the courtiers to recognize our presence.

"Her Highness, Princess Mary, and the Princess Eleanor," the heralds announced us.

It was just right, I thought, beaming at my little girl with pride. Right and left of us, people dropped into bows and curtseys, but I spared them no glance.

"God save the princesses," someone shouted. Soon, many voices joined in. "God save the princesses!"

The clamour followed us as we approached the Queen's apartments. Nan Seville ushered us in, smiling at me gently. She nodded, and pointed towards the Queen's chamber. I went in, elated, to find my father sitting by the Queen's bedside. She sat upright, although she seemed weak and pale. When she saw me approach, however, she managed to smile.

"Mary, dear," my Father welcomed me.

I stepped forward and slowly, carefully, allowed Eleanor to slip from my arms into Anne's. She could not manage to fight back her tears now. My father took my hand in his and whispered a quiet "thank you".

The Queen was mumbling, but some words were understandable.

"My girl… my precious little Eleanor…"

"Our girl. And she has your hair," my Father agreed. "Perhaps we ought to have named her Anne, after all."

"No, Eleanor is perfect," his wife objected, still absolutely smitten with the little bundle. "Eleanor Tudor."

My father squeezed my hand as he heard me whisper "Nellie" affectionately.

"Thank you, my Queen, for this gift," he said. "And thank you, daughter. I appreciate what all you've done."

"Are the physicians no longer mad," I asked smirking.

He laughed. "Let them grumble, this is how it's going to be. Come, Mary, let us speak a moment. I trust I can leave my little princess in the loving care of her mother, can I not?"

But his Queen didn't even hear his words. My father smiled and guided me out the room. He shooed away Anne's ladies before his face darkened.

"I have spoken to the physicians. They did accuse you… of things they should not speak of, even though they only admitted after I questioned them thoroughly."

"Witchcraft?"

He nodded. "Don't worry, though. I'll have them silenced. Especially now that the Queen has awoken. Mistress Nan has also told me that some of them called it a miracle, a miracle that you brought about. And yet…" He looked over to Anne playing with their little daughter. "Yet they say she was severely hurt. It is not likely she'll ever carry a child again."

I swallowed the bitter pill. "Father, I'm so sorry… does she know?"

"Not yet. I don't know how to tell her." He sighed deeply.

"With kindness," I suggested. "Assure her that you'll love her nonetheless. You will, won't you, Father? After all God has done for you?"

"Of course," he returned, and seemed almost upset that I had insinuated otherwise. "I love her. Do you think she'll fear losing my love if we never have a Duke of York?"

"She might," I admitted.

Henry nodded, and then he pulled me into a hug. I didn't refuse, nor did I want to. He seemed to need the comfort, and I was glad to provide it. After a long time of pondering, he came to a conclusion. Gently patting my hair, he slowly let go off me.

"I'll tell her later, when she is a little stronger. And I'll prove to her my love by naming you Duchess of York."

My eyes grew wide. "You… what?"

Henry smiled, and gently cupped my cheek. "You deserve it, sweetheart. After everything… And this way, she'll see that I need no other son from her if that is God's will. He has returned her to me, after all, and I would not have it any other way. If it is God's wish that we shall have Edward only, then I am content. And if He so wills it, one day you'll be queen."

I don't know why, but his words forced me to drop to my knees. "Majesty…"

"Now, now, Mary, get up. Come back with me, let us return to the Queen. She needs those she loves the most, don't you think?"

Slowly, still not believing that wife-murdering Henry VIII had just said what he had said, I rose to my feet again.

"And let us look again at my little princess," he said in a louder voice now, so that Anne too could hear it. "Is she not the most beautiful little girl you have ever seen, Mary?"

"She is," I managed to say.

The Queen smiled at our words. "A true Tudor princess."

"Aye," the King agreed. "Mark my words, Mary, one day there'll be wars fought over her. And I shall enjoy to watch them fight."

Now, I too had to smile. I dared to believe now. That it wasn't a dream, but the truth. That this was no longer the Henry VIII that history knew. He was a different man, a man I had helped to shape.

He was my papa.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40 – In which I faced my three parents**

I was summoned the day after Anne had recovered. To be quite frank, I had expected my father to send for me, albeit not so soon. But when I strode through the halls, I knew why he would summon me as officially as he had. If this were about the Queen, or my new sister, he would have asked for me privately. But no, he summoned me.

This was about George and me, I reckoned as the royal guards led me into the King's reception room. There, a most awkward scene greeted me.

My father sat in his enormous wooden chair, stoic and unmoved like a statue. Behind him, Charles Brandon, clad in finest furs, was pacing up and down. And before them, a finely dressed man cowered on his knees. I'd love to pretend that I wasn't surprised to see this, but in fact, I was.

"Daughter," the King said without much ado, beckoning me to come closer and pass by the kneeling man. "I trust you know why I called you here."

"Majesty, I… do not know what you wish me to say," I hesitantly answered.

"Oh, but you do. How about you tell me why we are in this amusing situation that we find ourselves in, hum? When I should be sitting by your stepmother's bedside, I instead find myself her, with her brother kneeling before me begging my leave to court you. Why is that, Mary?" The King's voice dripped with angry irony. When I remained silent, he went on: "He says he loves you. Tell me – did you know?"

Now, his gaze compelled me to answer. "I might have had an inkling, Majesty, but I did not know for sure. Not until very recently… yesterday, in fact."

"Yesterday, hum, hum," he repeated my words. "And after you found out, you considered the best way of action was to send him here, to throw himself before me?"

"You said that's what it would take," I tried to defend myself.

"What it would take?" He yelled now. "What it would take for what? Speak up, girl, or have you lost that brave tongue of yours? What did you expect me to do? Jump up and salute you for fornicating with your own uncle?"

I flinched, and with fear in my eyes realized that George was dangerously close to snapping, to doing something he would later regret, all because he wanted to protect me. But he didn't need to, I would show him. I was a Tudor myself, and Henry wasn't the only one adept at yelling.

"I wasn't fornicating!" I spat back. "Nothing improper ever happened between us! And once I knew of his intentions, which, to be honest, he was willing to put aside for MY sake, I did the only proper thing! I sent him to you, my lord and father! What else should I have done?"

Henry sank back into his chair, shaking his head. "Mary. Mary, Mary, Mary. What am I to do with you? You're as stubborn as your mother. You think just because you send him begging, that I can forget about all rules of propriety, of consanguinity? And besides, he is far too lowborn to be the husband of a princess. Of the Duchess of York!"

"So was the Queen until you married her," I fired back.

His gaze turned threateningly dark. "Careful, now."

"But it is the truth! You married Anne because you loved her! You ignored the rules of consanguinity as well, and you did it for her!" I stumbled towards him, grabbing his chair's armrest, and sunk to my knees. "Why is it so hard to believe that I would simply wish the same for myself? That I would want happiness? After the disaster with Philip, you promised me that. You promised me…"

His face visibly softened, as if my pleading tone reminded him of another Mary, a long lost sister, reminding him of the promise he'd given her. She'd gone to marry Brandon without his permission. I hoped he would acknowledge that at least, I had asked.

"Mary," he said gently. "Is this truly what you want? You are young still, and easily flattered, and he is but a duke. A duke I created, if I need remind him of that."

Henry sternly looked at George, but I touched his cheek to make him look at me again.

"He is also my friend. A true friend whenever I needed him. And he loves me, truthfully. This is not about what I want, Father, this is about what I need," I explained, shooting George a short glance. "I need someone like him. And you need him, too. I am only the strong princess you have come to rely on so heavily when I have his support. If you want me to remain an asset to your reign, and to be one for Edward once he ascends the throne, you need me with George. I need to be with him."

That was all which was to be said, and everyone in the room seemed to sense it. Finally, my father broke the silence.

"I like it not, Mary, but I shall put it to the Queen. She owes you more than most, and loves her brother. Let it be to her to decide your fates," he decreed and rose from his chair. "So long, you, Lord George, will withdraw from court and keep to your estates. I will not have any rumours tarnish my daughter's reputation."

"As Your Majesty wishes," George replied dutifully, shooting me a sad glance before finally rising and leaving the room.

"Charles, you'll escort my daughter back to her rooms. Make sure she adheres the laws of decency from now on, will you?"

I couldn't protest. Henry was using his "my mind's made up" voice, and there was nothing to be done against that. So I curtseyed before him and allowed my uncle to lead me back. When we reached my apartments, he bowed before me. I thought that would be it, but he surprised me by adding a question in a low-key voice.

"Do you really wish to marry Boleyn?"

I frowned, but then nodded. "I do. Is that what you worry about, Uncle Charles?"

"I only worry about the ambitions of that family. Their grandson to be the next king, and their son in tow should anything happen to the Prince of Wales. Do not mistake me, Princess, but Thomas Boleyn is a ruthless schemer."

"I know, and I can assure you this is nothing to do with him. In fact, I do not think he even knows. This is about me and the man I trust most in this world."

Charles sighed, and then he smiled. "Then, alas, what can an old man say about young love?"

"You're not old, Uncle Charles," I replied giggling. "You're the best."

"Am I, now? Well, if you say so, I suppose it must be true. Do me a favour then, would you, Your Highness? Do not bow to Boleyn's wishes. You're a princess of the blood royal, you rank far above him. Do not be tempted to give in and, let's say, name a son for that vile old schemer Thomas Boleyn."

I shook my head. "I wouldn't, I promise. I'd rather name him for you, and I am sure His Majesty would also be pleased with that. He loves you above all others."

Charles leant forward to place a kiss on my forehead, and smiled again. "Your Aunt Mary would have loved to see you walk down the aisle," he whispered. Then he bowed again, and left without another word.

I stared after him for a long time.

And I would continue to stare at my apartment's walls for many more hours, until at last, Nan Saville appeared in my rooms. The Queen wanted to see me immediately, she announced, and I was both happy and fearful to hear it. Still, there was no running away, so I straightened my shoulders and went to the Queen's bedside.

She already looked much better than she had the day before, her cheeks less pale and waxy, and her eyes sparkling again. They dug into me like dark hooks as I slowly entered her room and took the seat that was offered.

Then, she took her time to look at me, to scrutinize me, as if she had never seen me before.

"The King visited with me," she said, all of a sudden.

"I know," I all but whispered back.

"Oh, you do? And do you know which story he told me, and how it made me feel?"

I took it for a rhetorical question, but her gaze was unflinching. She expected me to say something.

"I assume Your Majesty was unhappy to find out that important information had been kept from you."

"Unhappy?" Anne made a hissing sound. "At first, perhaps, but then, not anymore. Only disappointment was in my heart; disappointment that my own brother, that my stepdaughter would care so little for me as not to inform me. I asked you, Mary, I implored you to tell me what was ailing George, and you knew! You hid it from me on purpose!"

I shook my head. "I didn't know for sure… only when he told me yesterday. I would have told you soon, but you had only just recovered and I assumed that Nellie was far more important at the moment."

"Oh, don't give me that! You could have told me weeks ago, even if you had only an inkling, as you say. Frankly, I don't believe that. You must have known how he felt, and you chose not to tell me," Anne fumed. "Why? Did you not trust me to share your secret? Did you think I would deliberately act against my brother's happiness? I could have helped you, Mary, I could have advocated your cause!"

Ashamed, I lowered my head.

"But you didn't trust me," the Queen concluded.

"I didn't trust anyone," I quietly told her. "No one but two people, and one of them betrayed me. And the other… the other was almost broken by the burden of my trust. I chose not to put anyone through that ordeal ever again. I tried to carry the weight of my burdens alone… until George spoke of his true feelings. That was when I realized I no longer wanted to carry the weight of England. That I wanted my own share of happiness."

Anne and I exchanged some meaningful glances.

"I am sorry I didn't confide in you. I should have."

She nodded. "Let us leave it at that. Thank you for the truth, Mary. I am tired now, and need my rest."

"But… but what about…" I stopped myself, not wanting to stoop so low as to beg for mercy.

"I have heard what I needed to hear, although it is a pity that His Majesty sent my brother away. Still, I think I can well imagine what he would have to say for himself. He's always been a hot-headed fool, and I love him for that. I, however, shall ponder the matter with a clear head. You'll hear of my decision soon enough."

As I curtseyed, I realized she was using the power she now had over me to get revenge for me not letting her in on George's and my secret, and I could not fault her for it. Her pride was hurt and would take some time to recover. I could only hope she was still indebted enough to both me and her brother to see that the slight we had dealt her meant little in comparison.

I had to wait another two agonizing days for anything else to happen. And even then, what happened was not what I had expected. I had been waiting to be summoned before the King, yet instead, a visitor was announced to me – my mother.

"Mama?"

"Mi hija," Catherine of Aragon smiled at me.

Seeing her somewhat shocked me, since she seemed to have grown much older since we last met. But I remembered that in real life, she would have been long gone, and that every day she now had was a blessing. Perhaps, a voice in my head said, you can at least provide her with a grandchild before she leaves this world.

"What brings you here?"

"Your father has called for me. He told me a wondrous story about you and a duke that apparently, you intend to marry."

"Mama, please, I can explain…"

She shook her head. "There is nothing to explain, my sweet daughter. I knew all along."

My eyes grew wide. "You did?"

"I am your mother, after all. I saw how gloomy you were after that disastrous annulment, and that the only thing that finally made you smile was news of our hero duke. You may not have admitted it to yourself, but it was plain to see."

I blushed. "And do you…"

"From what His Majesty wrote to me, I assume he has called me here to talk you out of it. He knows I hold little love for the Boleyns, or reformists in general, and would not approve of your chosen husband," she informed me rather sternly, before suddenly turning into a great smile again. "But your father has always underestimated my love for you. Although he loves having children, I don't think he has ever fully grasped what it means to be a parent. To have something that is part of you, and yet distinctly different – something that will own your heart forever."

She opened her arms and pulled me in a warm embrace.

"You are my heart, mi corazon, Mary. I know you would never be so bold to ask the King for permission to marry George Boleyn if you didn't want to with all your heart. How can I oppose you, then? All I have ever wanted for you has come true. You are where you ought to be, firmly installed in the royal succession. Duchess of York! Now, all that there is left is for you to have a husband that deserves you."

She let go off me, and looked me in the eyes.

"Does George Boleyn deserve your love?"

For a second, I didn't know what to say. "I… I don't think there's ever been anyone else who supported me as wholeheartedly as he. It is true, mother, I denied it to myself for a long time… but in truth, he has been my rock for many years. He has been a true friend, and a loyal ally. I… I'm not saying ours is a love like Guinevere and Lancelot, or that we'll be blissfully happy forever… but not to try for happiness with him seems wrong. It would eat him up from inside…. And I don't want that. Does it make sense to you, mother?"

"More than you think," she agreed. "And if so, I will give you my blessing, provided your future husband comes to me and properly asks for it. There are a few things I should like to tell him beforehand."

"Mother?"

"Alas, my sweet girl, that is not for you to hear. It is a matter between a mother and her son-in-law," she said protectively, patting my hair as she spoke. Then she grinned. "Now you must excuse me, I need to go and see the King. He'll be surprised to hear my verdict, and I would not miss the look on his face for anything."

And with that, she left, leaving me to wonder just how feisty and cheeky she could have been, had fate not burdened her with so many cares from an early age. And whatever she said to my father, it must have worked miracles, for only two hours later, I was once again called before the king.

I curtseyed before him, and he did not beckon me to rise. Instead, he just stared down upon me.

"You are a most wondrous lady, Mary," he began sarcastically. "You knew I liked this matter not, and still you persisted. Why, yes, you have even managed to procure the support and acclaim of both the Queen and your mother, two women who are known to agree on very few matters. How, I wonder? And why? Why is it that you defy me on this matter, daughter?"

I dared not raise my face to see him. "Here I stand, I can do no other," I replied, quoting Martin Luther of all people. Would my father even recognize, or was the story not yet widespread?

His finger touched my chin, forcing me to lift my gaze at last.

"Do you truly want this, Mary," he asked. The sarcasm in his tone was now gone.

"I do."

"Even though he is your uncle?"

"Never by blood. And I am sure Your Majesty could issue a dispensation if you so wished."

He raised an eyebrow. "You would not want me to ask the Bishop of Rome?"

"Do you think he is very likely to accept?" I shot back. "For I refuse to be drawn into a struggle for political power. It is my own life's happiness that is at stake, and I shall not throw it to ambitious men like a piece of meat for dogs to fight over. Why, I think, you should actually write to His Holiness and tell him that. Tell him I'm a Tudor, and I get what I want. Tell him to grant my dispensation, or to lose his greatest advocate on English soil."

Now, my father's eyes grew wide. "You want me to hold the Pope ransom?"

"Now, now, if you put it like that, it sounds so harsh," I replied grinning. "Let us simply say that we would be making an offer too good to refuse. That is diplomacy, is it not?"

Suddenly, without warning, he pulled me to my legs and embraced me.

"My girl," the King whispered.

"Do I have your blessing, then," I boldly dared to ask.

He let go off me and nodded. "You have. But on one condition, and that is non-negotiable. You shall have the celebrations that we couldn't muster the last time. Processions, and banquets, and masquerades. At least three days of feasting. And a dress to turn every princess in Europe pale with envy."

His words brought tears to my eyes. All the fears that I had harboured now peeled off me like old skin, to reveal a newer, happier Mary beneath. I nodded.

"Will my mother be allowed to attend?"

"Of course. It is your great day, after all. No expense shall be spared, and I am sure that for one day, the Queen and your mother will be able to be civil."

I nodded again, now already crying, and smiled. "Thank you, papa."

He embraced me again, this time a little tighter. "My pearl… do not let yourself be carried away. You have chosen this path, and must now walk it to the end. Brace yourself thus, and expect many arduous days of preparation. I shall put it to my lovely wife to prepare the celebrations, but you must aid her with everything. Do not be tempted to think this wedding will come at no cost."

"I would never," I promised half-seriously, knowing that he was only mocking me a little now to ease the tension.

"Good," he said and let go off me. "Off you go, then, daughter. Inform the Queen of my decision, and tell her that she has an awful lot of work to do. Especially in regard to the dress. Envy of Europe, will you convey these exact words to her?"

"Envy of Europe," I repeated dutifully and smiled. "I'll leave straight away, and Your Majesty shall not be disappointed."

"I firmly hope so, Mary. Do not make me regret this."


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41 – In which I got married (again)**

There was something I felt compelled to do before I could get married (this time in truth). Some unfinished business that was like an unhealed wound in my soul. I would not allow it to fester any longer, so I put on my finest garments and had a carriage take me to Duke Philip and his wife Anne.

The Duke received me courteously, clearly disturbed by my unannounced visit. It felt odd so see him bow before me, the man who I had so hoped to love one day, and yet never had. The man whom I had once considered an ally, only to have him betray me with one of my closest confidantes – without even knowing it. The man who had been – in this life, at least – the only one I had ever bedded.

"Rise, Your Grace," I beckoned him magnanimously. "Forgive me for intruding, but unforeseen matters have compelled me to pay you a visit. You and your wife, that is. Would you show me to her?"

I could see that he was unwell, or at least uncomfortable, but he didn't dare refuse my wish. As he led me to a parlour, sweet gargling sounds of children's laughter made me understand why.

"Wife… the Princess Mary is here," he managed to say before we entered.

I found her sitting on a bench, the woman I had once considered a threat, then an ally, then a friend, and now… nothing, anymore. A raven haired girl was gleefully playing with a doll at her feet, while a boy of about a year was cutely crawling over the floor. And when Anne, my old friend, saw me, she instinctively put a hand on her swollen belly.

"You Highness," her courtesy compelled her to say.

"Lady Anne. I see time has been kind to you, and your family," I said somewhat coldly, and then turned to the girl. "You must be little Annie. It has been so long since I last saw you, you were but a babe in the cradle. Come here, child."

The girl looked at me with her hazel eyes, unsure of what to do.

"Do as the Princess says, Annie. You know how to be polite, don't you," her mother ordered her.

Now, the little lass stumbled forward and attempted to curtsey as best as she could. It was so delightfully sweet, I just had to clap my hands and applaud her.

"What a lovely young lady you are," I commented, and then looked at the babe Anne had just picked up. "And who might you be?"

"Henry," Philipp interrupted. "For my brother, Otto Henry."

"My, my, you have been truly blessed then."

Anne wrapped her arms around her son. "Please," she whispered.

"Please what? Did you think I came all the way here to do, what, to destroy your happiness? You ought to know me better than that, both of you! Duke Philip, would you be so kind as to take the children with you? I'd like a word with your wife, if possible. In private."

They exchanged glances, looked at me, and exchanged glances again. It made me impatient.

"For Christ's sake, I am not here to harm your wife in any way. I would never stoop so low as to touch an expectant mother, and you should know it."

Philip then nodded, took the baby boy on his arm, and the girl on his hand, and left. Anne just sat there, staring at them leaving. Then, finally, she looked at me.

"What have you come for, then?"

"I needed to see you, both of you. I should have done so long ago, but couldn't. Now, I feel it will give me the closure I need to move on," I tried to explain, and she sighed. "You have hurt me. And you should have known better! In a time when I was vulnerable, you knew exactly where to put the knife and push, and you almost bled me dry."

She nodded. "I begged your forgiveness."

"And I couldn't grant it. Because you didn't see – didn't see that your betrayal hurt so much more than his. He might have been my husband in name… But you! You owed me, Anne – you were mine, my creation. I raised you from obscurity to being a countess in your own right, I conspired with you. I trusted you! I thought you were my friend, at a time when I had so few of them."

"I was," she whispered.

"Then why did you… ?"

Anne looked at me, seemingly lost, before shrugging ever so lightly.

"I fell for him. It couldn't be helped."

"The things we do for love," I agreed exhaling deeply. "Well, I guess at least on that, we can now agree. Which is why I came to inform that you have my forgiveness now."

"Truly?" She almost blurted it out. "I mean, thank you, it is… why now?"

I tried to smile. "Why not? It was about time. I once heard it said that being angry with someone is like swallowing poison and expecting the other to die. And I don't expect you to die, Anne, I cannot even fault you so much for falling in love… it is a foolish thing to do, but it cannot be helped, you're right."

"Have you fallen in love, then?"

"Sharp as ever. I see you have not lost your wits, Lady Anne," I retorted. "And you will soon hear about it anyway. I am now officially engaged, as both my parents have given this union their blessing. The wedding shall take place in little over a moon's turn. As a matter of fact, I had wanted to invite both you and your husband to attend, as a matter of making amends. Though, given your current state, I am no longer sure it would be wise."

"You are inviting us?" Anne raised an eyebrow.

"Still suspicious?"

"Always," came the serious-sounding reply. "But I am old and wise enough not to remain suspicious for too long. It is not every day that we are offered second chances. I was, after Edward, when I… well, when I met Philip. I am glad you were given a second chance as well. May I ask who the fortunate groom is, or will you leave me to guess?"

Oh, how much I had missed her bluntness! If only I could look at her swollen belly without remembering my child by Philip, the one that I lost.

"Would you have a guess, anyway?"

"Not immediately, no, I'm afraid. You find me quite intrigued. What lucky man conquered the heart of the Lady of England?"

"George. Boleyn, I mean."

She seemed somewhat surprised, at least for a moment. Then she nodded.

"You have my sincerest congratulations. I very much hope that you'll find all the happiness that has been denied to you for so long, through no fault of your own. And I believe I also speak in my husband's name if I humbly thank you for the invitation. Although, as you yourself said, it is by no means certain that I shall be able to attend."

"I'll pray for your good health, then, and that of your unborn babe."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for your forgiveness."

I rose to my feet again and nodded. "Forgiven… but not forgotten. I no longer wish to hate you, but that does not mean I can love you as I did before. What was broken must be mended, and it cannot be undone in one day only. Though, if you were willing, I would be as well."

"No more could I ask. I am deeply grateful," she accepted my reasoning. "Your Highness, what should I tell my husband about this?"

"Whatever you deem fit. I do not know how much of our special relationship you have disclosed to him, though I trust that our darkest secret remains hidden away safely."

"Of course!"

"Then do as you will. And send a letter informing the royal castellans whether you will be able to attend or not. The feast will be grand, and if you do not write in time, you might not receive proper seats as befitting your station."

It was meant as somewhat of a light-hearted jest, and Anne took it as such, but in truth, it wasn't so funny after all. To be quite frank, the wedding was a nauseating affair. Or, to be more precise, planning it was nauseating. Of course, most of the preparations were overseen by the Queen, but she asked my compliance for almost anything. And man, do I tell you, how many nights we spent discussing tapestries and menu orders and embroideries for my veil! I cannot claim that I hated it all; that would be unfair. Sometimes, the prospect of having a wedding that would have made all my real life friends cry with jealousy made me giddy as a little girl. But it was also extremely tiresome, and as days passed by, I found myself wishing I had never accepted my father's condition. I didn't NEED all of that pomp, after all. I had been quite happy with my first wedding, and would be content with it now. At least if it meant that I would finally be with George for real, and not strictly separated from him so as "not to fuel any rumours". Good God, what rumours should there be? He was my fiancée now, of COURSE he would love to be intimate with me, and I with him!

So I began counting the days until this whole ordeal would be through, and we'd be alone together for real.

But it wasn't all bad. Picking the silks and damask for my dress, aided by the Queen and her sister, was great fun. Drawing the designs of the pearl headdress that I wanted to wear was also charming, even though none of them knew I had taken my inspiration from the Borgias TV show. If I was to wear Lucrezia Borgia's brooch, why not also her headdress? The white pearls would surely look splendid on my auburn hair.

Another delightful things were the guests. Noble, and even royal, guests from all over Europe came flocking to England the days and weeks before the wedding, making my father's palaces almost burst with foreign languages. Francis of Guise, my one-time suitor, had come despite the fact that his sister was wife of my personal enemy, the King of Scotland. Still, Francis considered me a friend of sorts, and I him. In a drunken bout one night before the wedding, I even promised I would help him find a suitable bride in time, not knowing at all that I would one day make good on that promise.

There were more visitors from France, however. King Francis himself, of course, had not been able to come, but he had allowed his two youngest children, Prince Charles and Princess Marguerite, to attend chaperoned. He also sent his best wishes and a jewel-crusted chest containing a richly illustrated copy of one of Aristotle's great works.

My cousin, the Emperor, had also sent his best wishes, but no special envoys, clearly to show me that my pro-English, pro-protestant match did not please him. To hell with him, I thought, and apparently, his sister thought the same. Mary of Austria came with her retinue, and when I asked her why she defied her own brother, she simply smiled.

"He never expressed any wishes or orders about my attendance. It would appear that I am my own mistress now."

But there was more yet to come. Much to Queen Anne's delight, her old friend Duchess Renee had set sail for England, along with her eldest daughter Anna, and had also brought Signor Ferrante with her. My father had already formalized his summons as the Italian ambassador, so when we received him, I smiled at him proudly. Mission accomplished, debts paid, I wanted to say, but didn't.

Ferrante, however, wasn't so subtle. When we danced one night before the wedding, he grinned at me and whispered into my ear: "So Francesco was right about you and your uncle after all."

"We were not fornicating," I protested.

"Oh, my, did it sound like I was telling you off? I meant no disrespect, Your Highness. Far be it from me to judge anyone's amorous affairs." He smiled at me warmly. "I came not to blackmail you, or any of the sorts. Rather, I would be your ally, and would ask you to be mine. It seems that I would need one to navigate the waters of this court, and from what I have heard, there is no greater ally in all of England for me to find. I'd rather be your friend than your enemy."

"You cannot simply ask to be someone's friend," I quipped back.

"Oh, but I just did, didn't I?" His grin turned smug. "And from the way you're smiling, even though you're protesting, Princess, I must rather say I think you like the idea as well. There is no shame in admitting that you are looking for friendship in handsome, charming and clever men."

Now, I couldn't suppress a small laughter. "And you consider yourself such a man?"

He raised an eyebrow, trying to appear miffed. "Would you care to deny it?"

It was then that I realized that he was right, that I did like him after all. I would give him a chance, I decided, and looking back now, it was one of the wisest decision I ever made. Through all my years, there were few people who I grew to like as profoundly as I did Ferrante, or whom I could trust so indefinitely. In the years to come, even though I didn't know it then, he would become my closest ally, my best servant, as Cromwell had once been for my father – just without all the backstabbing Cromwell had undertaken.

But that is not what you wish to hear about now, I assume. You are here because you wish to find out about my wedding at last. I cannot fault you for it – I was anxiously awaiting it myself. After so many years of putting England first, I was finally about to have my share of happiness. I cannot fault you for wanting to hear about it.

And it was, in many aspects, the fairy tale wedding most girls once dreamed about. The Queen outdid herself, and my father stayed true to his word and spent lavishly on all aspects of the feast.

I did walk down the aisle in a silver dress, embroidered with golden threat, carrying a ten feet train made from silver silk behind me. I did see crying ladies in the audience, wishing they were me. I did see my father beaming with pride as he led me down the aisle. And I did see George's face caught up in awe as he beheld me standing beside him.

We both knew how unlikely it was that we should be standing here now. More than any other person in the church that day, we knew that by right, we should have never been here. We were cheating fate, and it felt good. So good.

After we had said our vows, an open carriage carried by four silver mares brought us back through the cramped streets of London. An ocean of faces branded against the carriage, shouting good wishes and blessings as we passed them by. Long ago, I had laughed at video footage of royals waving at crowds, yet now I found myself doing just that. It was an indomitable urge. When you are confronted by so much adoration, worship, and unconditional love, you simply need to wave back and smile.

It's the least you can do.

Back at Hampton Court, there was a banquet with eight absolutely delicious courses, which sadly didn't fit in my corset at all. I could only grab a bite here and there, and most of the time, I was busy entertaining our guests. After the first dance, I was compelled to dance with so many men that I cannot even try to remember their number. My feet had been sore for a long time when my father finally allowed me to withdraw.

"Just retreat," he whispered in my ear. "I'll make sure our guests stay entertained."

I curtseyed before him, then kissed him on the cheek. I know it was inappropriate for the time, but I just had to say it: "You're the best, papa."

Then I took George's hand, waited for a fitting moment, and ran. We were both a little drunk, but most of all, we were impatient, and simply sneaking off from our own wedding feast felt deliciously improper. So far, all of our relationship had been highly improper, so why not expand on that?

We barely made it into my chambers, with George forcefully closing the door behind us, before our lips crushed together heavily.

"This is ridiculous," he whispered before pushing his tongue between my lips.

"I know," I panted.

"That you should be here, with me… and no one to stop us…"

My fingers caressed his cheeks, and then his neck, and then dug their way under his shirt. Greedily, I began to undo its lacing.

"Well, who would dare to," I shot back grinning. "I'm your wife now."

"Wife," he breathed back heavily as his fingers began to fight with the lacing of my dress. "God, I never knew the word could sound so sweet."

"You're saying that now. Come the morrow, you'll find me dull and stale."

"Never," he objected, and with a triumphant smile ripped open the lacings of my corset.

I smiled, but still protested. "Those were expensive!"

"Everything about this dress was expensive, I assume, but that doesn't mean I would not rather see it on the floor than on you," he said in a mocking voice. "Will you fault me for it?"

"Well, you could at least have the decency to properly help me out of it. It cost a fortune, and the nerves of several seamstresses."

He sighed, but it was a playful sigh. "If my Princess commands me to…"

"I do," I gave back haughtily, and pretended to be a posh princess for a second or two before bursting into a giggle, while he undid the bodice and helped me peel off layer after layer.

He began to talk to himself, whispering impatient words. "Good Lord, does this dress never end…"

When he had finally freed me from it, I turned around, wearing nothing but my linen undergarments. I felt a little ashamed at being so poorly dressed, and the moment I realized it, I was shocked by myself. In my real life, I had been to university in clothing that covered less skin than this, and would have never dreamt of being ashamed! Apparently, Tudor morale and lifestyle had gotten to me far more than I had ever expected.

That, or the dangerously lustful way my new husband was looking at me.

"Is… is something amiss?" I dared to ask.

"No. Nothing's amiss. Nothing at all. That is what is so wonderful about this moment," he said, exhaling deeply. "I shouldn't be here, with you, but by no means would I be willing to give it all up, now."

"And you need not," I affirmed. Then, taking his hand in mine, I slowly pulled him towards my bed. OUR bed, my mind corrected. Ours.

I wanted to say more, something witty and charming perhaps, but there was nothing more to be said. We had not come so far to waste time with idle talking. There would be enough time for that come the morrow, but now, even if only for one night, we'd be together, and we'd be happy.

The most happy.


	42. Chapter 42

**Warning: This chapter contains some steamy scenes (nothing too explicit, though). Also thank you all for the reviews these past chapters, especially those unnamed guests who've written all their thoughts, apparently. Your creative input has helped shape this chapter!**

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 **Chapter 42 – In which George and I became an "us"**

"What do you plan on doing now?"

George's voice was delightfully dark and raspy the morning after our wedding. We just lay there, staring at the canopy curtains over our bed as if there wasn't a whole court outside waiting for us to reappear.

"I have no idea," I confessed smiling. "I had never planned for it to get so far."

"I cannot believe you had NO idea at all, my princess," he mocked me sweetly and allowed his fingertips to dance over my bare belly. "After all, you know so much more than everyone else. You know about all the wars to come, all the kings and queens that will come and go… there must be something you wish to do with that knowledge."

I shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure just how much I know still. I have already interfered so much with history… who knows what I have set in motion? Edward and Eleanor should have never been born. You should be dead. And I should die alone, childless, and with the fearful reputation of being 'Bloody Mary'."

"Doesn't sound very compelling to me," George agreed. "But then why not use whatever knowledge you have, and turn it into something good? Surely, things must have been achieved in the four hundred years until 1986."

He said the year as if it was a wondrous magic spell.

"More than you know." I rolled over to look at him. "More than you could ever possibly imagine. Take only medicine, for example. We have gathered a lot of insight into how sicknesses work, what causes them, and have thus come up with much more effective treatments. Some old plagues, like the measles or the pox, are all but eradicated. And childbirth, too, is much safer. In fact, deaths of both mothers and children are so rare in my days, I know no mother who died in childbed, and only one pregnancy that didn't make it to term."

"It seems too good to be true," George said, and I could feel that he meant it.

Now, a fever came over me. For him to actually want to know… I had so long suppressed the urge to tell anyone who I truly was, what I truly knew… but not now. Now, I would speak.

"And education! Well, it is compulsory now to attend school, for everyone, to learn how to read and write and count and speak foreign languages. Girls and boys."

George raised an eyebrow. "Impossible! Everyone, you say? Who tends to your fields?"

"We've invented many methods and machines to make farming more effective. Only very few people work the land in my time; most people have other occupations. I, myself, for example, used to work as a lawyer."

He blinked twice. "Law? You?"

"What, do I not look like a proficient legal expert to you?" I laughed.

"Well, it would explain how you are so good at twisting my words," he snapped, and then pushed me over and into the sheets. We shared a brief kiss, him towering over me, before he turned serious again. "Honestly, Mary, this is incredible. You know so much. You should not allow it to go to waste. If only half of what you say is true, we need these advances here, right now. How much good we could do."

"But I'm not a doctor, or an agricultural economist, or a teacher. And I very much doubt people would welcome all these changes. It didn't take 400 years for no reason, George."

"So you wouldn't even try? Doesn't sound like the woman I wished to marry. Did I by chance get wed to the wrong lady last night?"

I pinched him, and he feigned pain.

"What would you have me do," I asked then.

"How would I know? It is you who possesses this incredible treasure of knowledge. Just tell me where and how to start, and I'll be there."

I frowned. "You would do that?"

"Mary…" He stopped, rolled back off me, and took my hand in his. "All I have ever wanted, aside from happiness for my family, is to change this world. To free it from superstition and outworn traditions, and to lead into a new age of reason. This is what our reformation is all about! And now you, with all that knowledge, all that talent, and your kind heart… you are a true blessing. It must be the Lord's doing! What kind of hypocrite would I be not to try and make use of that?" He stopped once more and placed a kiss on my hand. "Once more, I am your ever loving servant. Tell me what needs to be done."

The whole situation was overwhelming. There were too many thoughts in my head to organize them all, but the honesty in his words and his face forced me to reply.

"We should start by charitable deeds, I think. Care for the hungry, the poor, the sick. I am no doctor, but I know enough about illnesses to prevent the most frequent ones. All it takes is a little hygiene. And you… the King will surely appoint you to his council now, seeing that you are both his brother- and son-in-law. Maybe you would take kindly to some legal suggestions from your loving wife?"

He nodded, and grinned. "I hope you know much about Tudor law."

"Nothing at all," I returned laughing. "Which is why you would have to get me scrolls and books first. I might have the right skills to understand the matter, but I must do the reading nonetheless. Actually, I will not be able to achieve it without your help, so we are in for some very long nights."

His right hand suddenly began to wander down my neck, along my shoulder, and then towards my waistline.

"Very long nights indeed," he murmured, "for I have no intention of spending them entirely by poring over legal tomes."

Goosebumps began to build on my skin as his fingers reached my navel.

"Neither would I."

"Good. Very good. Then tell me more about your time, sweet princess. When in bed, do people of your time do this?" He asked, and allowed his fingers to slip beneath the sheets, and beneath my waistline.

A soft moan escaped my lips as I found myself nodding. "That, and much more," I whispered.

"Is that so?" George smirked and raised an eyebrow. "What about this?"

Again, I couldn't help but moan as the heat made my whole body tremble. "Yes," I panted. "That as well."

"Well, lucky men you have, then."

I looked at him, and smiled. "I would rather not think of any other man right now."

"Good answer," he agreed with a cheeky smile as he lowered his head towards my chest.

Why did I tell you about this? Not to let you in on my most private bedroom affairs, of course, though I must admit I remember that morning quite fondly. No, I told you because it was one of the defining moments in my life as Mary. You might have guessed that with the Queen's second survival, my sister's birth, and my own wedding, my job here in England was done. You would think exactly as I thought back then. That I, much like everyone else, had found my happy ever after.

But happy ever afters only exist if you choose to quit the story at that point, and I couldn't quit. I had made a deal to live this life until the end, so I would. And there was much yet to happen, most of which was to do with that amazing morning after my wedding night. That was when George and I decided to change England (and history as such) for real. That was when we decided to turn the world upside down.

That's when he and I became an "us".

Together, we decided to take the many threads I had begun to spin and weave them into a net. To gather them all: Anne Stanhope, now once again indebted to me, as was her husband, Duke Philip, my loyal friend and cousin Mary of Austria, my charming French friend Francis of Guise, the lovely Renee of Ferrara, who seemed quite eager to betroth one of her stock to my family, our new Italian ambassador Ferrante di Gonzaga, my reluctant servant Chapuys… and we would add more to the list.

We put a little more pressure on Cromwell to remind him who had saved his precious position after the Queen was presumed dead. We invited the Duke of Cleves' unmarried sister, Anne, to court as a maid-of-honour to her namesake, the Queen. Of course we promised her brother that we'd find her a suitable husband and such, but in truth, I just wanted her away from him. And who knows, she might be useful one day? We contacted my cousin Ferdinand, Emperor Charles' younger brother, since I knew he would one day be emperor after Charles abdicated. Why not make friends with him now? And we also got in touch with another cousin of mine, Joana of Austria, who would soon bear the future king of Portugal. I did not know as much as I would have loved to about European history, but these things, I somehow remembered.

Whatever knowledge I had, I would use, as George had put it.

And the thing I prepared myself, my family, and England for most was the year 1542. Then, and I remembered that quite clearly, would my long-harboured anger for my cousin James be sated. The Battle of Solway Moss, I knew, would deal the Scottish a harsh blow and eventually kill James. I didn't remember exactly how, nor was I interested in preventing it, but I knew I had to do something about it. If possible, I would enhance the English victory even further in order to crush Scottish resistance once and for all, and to bring about what in history had not been achieved: to unite England and Scotland. Historical Henry had tried to have his son Edward betrothed to the future Mary, Queen of Scots. I would make sure it happened this time around. Not only for England's and Scotland's sake, but also – believe it or not – for Mary's. Her real life, glamorous as it might have been, was a catastrophe. Raised in a country that wasn't hers, pushed around by her numerous husbands, deposed by her own subjects, rejected by her own son… Whatever she would have as Queen of both England and Scotland could only be better.

But that was a matter for the future, and before I can speak about the year 1542, I must first recount some other very important events. The first – chronologically – I shall tell you about now, and I'm guessing you'll like it every bit as much as I did back then. To be honest, thinking of it still makes me smile today.

It was in early 1540, about half a year after my wedding, during a harshly cold period of winter. George and I had just received the incredible news that I was, truly, honestly, and actually with child. As you can imagine, we were over the moon (even though the thought of going through it all still scared me a little), so naturally we decided to share our joy. We told my parents, of course, and some other very close confidantes, but made no public announcement yet. It was too early to be presumptuous, we told ourselves.

Unfortunately, no one told the Lords Boleyn and Howard that. Actually, I don't even know who told them about my pregnancy in the first place, since both George and his queenly sister had agreed it would be better to wait.

And still, only a few days after the midwives had confirmed my greatest joy, I heard rumours about Norfolk prancing around in court claiming that his bloodline was now inextricably linked to the throne, and Boleyn boasting that no matter what, one of his grandsons would wear the crown.

"I'll kill them single-handedly," George exclaimed when we found out. "Those insolent bastards!"

"Don't," I said, trying to pull him into a calming embrace. I didn't feel any calm myself, however. "We knew this could happen."

"Well, yes, but it shouldn't have! Not to you! Not after all you've been through, you don't deserve…"

I kissed his cheek. "It was not your fault, my love, it was theirs. Do not for a second be tempted to think that I shall let them go unpunished. No, no, quite the contrary. I had meant to be kind, and forgiving, since they are your family, but I will not have them put OUR efforts on THEIR breasts like a badge. We'll show them their place, George, and we shall do it right now. Cecily! Invite the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Wiltshire over for the afternoon, would you please?"

Two hours later, they came. You would have guessed I took the time to calm myself and George down, and well, to some extent, I did. But only to some. I only took the stoking flame of anger and turned it into cold, restrained wrath. As the two men entered, joyful, almost smug looks on their face, they had no idea what was waiting for them.

I sat in a large chair, almost resembling a throne, and as I watched them approach, I felt a dazzling wave of power rush through me. Was it a sadistic feeling, or a righteous one? Or both? George, standing behind me, squeezed my hand lightly and nodded.

"Father, Uncle, thank you for accepting the invitation on such short notice," he began.

"The pleasure is all ours," Thomas Boleyn assured us. "And would you kindly take our sincerest congratulations on this most joyous day?"

I bit my lip. Don't say anything yet, I reminded myself. Wait for the perfect moment!

Cecily came carrying a silver tray with ale-filled cups on them. All men readily took one.

"Ah, wonderful. Let me then raise my cup in a toast to the young couple's health," Norfolk said, and with a grin to Boleyn, he added: "And to the future Duke of York, the little Boleyn prince."

Both of them drank, but I simply thanked Cecily and sent her away. Boleyn frowned at that.

"Are you not drinking, Your Highness?"

"I find ale no appropriate drink for a woman whose responsibility is no longer for her own body alone," I explained, and when I saw them smiling as if they understood, I went on: "Besides, I have made it a habit not to toast to misguided conceptions."

Silence, for a moment or two. Then, Norfolk cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your toast, Lord Howard. As emphatically as you chose to put it, I am afraid most of it was just plainly wrong." I let that sink in, enjoyed their confusion for a second, until George squeezed my hand once more. "For you see, my lords, no matter the sex of this unborn life that I am carrying, there will be no Duke of York. His Majesty has already agreed to create him or her Earl of Lincoln, but the Duchess of York I shall remain. And you are also mistaken in regards to the name. There will only ever be one Boleyn prince, my lords, and that is Prince George. Our children will be Tudors. You should have read the marriage contract."

Silence, again, although this time I could see them sweating. I tried hard to fight the urge to laugh, simply laugh freely, as the rush of adrenaline pulsed through my veins.

"This… I must have misheard," Boleyn stammered.

George shook his head. "Every word my sweet wife just said is true."

"Such a thing is unheard of. It is unnatural!" The Duke of Norfolk bellowed.

"And you allowed this to happen?" George's father asked incredulously. "For God's sake, why?"

George simply smiled, as if they were not yelling at him. "Why not, Father? I married her for my own happiness, not yours."

"Your happiness? Boy, have you lost your mind?" Norfolk was fuming by now.

"Your Grace, it would appear you are forgetting your manners," I interrupted him like a governess scolding a child.

The men simply ignored me, however, or chose to ignore me.

"You cannot be serious, George. Do you truly wish to be the only man in England who does not get to pass on his name?" His father pleaded. "Think of what it would mean for us, for the family!"

"Yes, George, think of how they would lose their face now that they have already told everyone willing to listen how their blood shall sit the throne," I found myself spitting out quite sarcastically.

That did the trick, they were silent for a moment, simply staring at the 16th century woman who had dared to speak in such a fashion. I could see in the corners of George's mouth that he fought hard not to grin.

"This is incredible," Norfolk finally exhaled.

"That you should be so presumptuous as to walk around and inform everyone of my pregnancy when the royal family had, for good reasons, decided to keep it secret? Yes, Your Grace, I think we can agree on that. Incredible indeed."

Now, their faces were even more astonished. Boleyn seemed mostly shocked, but Norfolk was clearly outraged. I bet no one had ever spoken to him like that.

"You allow her to speak like that, in your presence, boy? She's your wife!"

I was so curious as to what George would answer, but unfortunately, Papa Boleyn had gathered his wits again and interrupted.

"I think we were off to a bad start, please, my lady, if I may…"

Now, I snapped. "It is 'Your Highness' to you, and no, you may not," I barked, and suddenly, even Norfolk turned quiet. "And you will never dare to call me anything but, nor my husband anything but 'Your Highness' or 'Prince George', is that understood?" I paused for a second, but somehow, I felt something had been set in motion that I was no longer able to stop. "You think so highly of yourselves, both of you, but all the rewards you seek to gain were achieved through no effort of your own! Do you think you deserve praise for what you did? Do you think any of this was your doing? For I can most certainly assure you that it is not!"

George later told me that this was the moment even he began to be afraid of me.

"This child is not your merit, and I will not allow you to say otherwise, ever again! It is ours, OURS, and only my husband and I shall decide what to name it, how to educate it, and who to tell about it. You have no say in it whatsoever!"

Boleyn, apparently, was wise enough now to remain quiet, but Norfolk – well, I could have guessed that his pride would never allow him to be upbraided by a woman.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," he all but spat quite sweetly. "But I think you will find that your husband is legally subject to his father, and by extension, to me. He is part of my family."

"And that is where you are wrong, Your Grace. He is my family now. Just like the Queen, he is a Tudor now, he belongs to us, and no longer to you. You have no power over him, over the Queen, over any of them anymore. They belong to us, to His Majesty and me," I chided him. "But if you wish me to expatiate on what would happen if you chose to ignore this boundary, allow me to be plain. We are Tudors. We accept no slights, we do not offer friendship twice, and we do not take kindly to anyone threatening our family, be he ever so high or low. You think that just because you pushed your daughters in front of every European king, just because you forced your son into a loveless marriage, that somehow now, when things have turned for the better, you should reap the rewards? No, my lords, no. If it were not for the family ties you once shared with those most dear to my heart, I would have you expelled from court for presuming as highly as you did, but consider this a warning. This is my last, and only, offer of friendship. If you truly wish me to consider you family, then you must do as they, as Anne, Mary, and George, did – be kind, be loving, be LOYAL. But do not, even for a second, be tempted to think that I would not use all the power I have to crush you utterly if you ever dare to go against my family again."

George was trembling, I could feel it.

"This is the offer I am making you: be the good and kind father and uncle that you should have always been, or be gone and never show your face at court again. But should you, for whatever foolish reason, decide to go a third way and presume to rule over Mary, Anne, or George, or any of their offspring, ever again, I will have – your heads – cut – off. I will not give a fig about the fact that you consider yourself the highest peer in the realm, Lord Howard, for all your noble blood cannot protect you from Tudor wrath! You may be the Duke of Norfolk, but I am a Princess of the Realm, the Duchess of York, the Lady of England! I have more royal blood in the tip of my finger than you have ever had ambitions plans, and I shall rejoice to see them all broken into a thousand shards! Do we understand each other now?"

My heart was drumming in my chest so heavily, I began to remember that this anger would perhaps harm my unborn child. I looked George in the eyes, and somehow, he seemed to understand.

"My Lords, you have heard Her Highness. I kindly ask you to withdraw now, for as you know, my wife is with child and needs her rest. I bid you a good day."

They said no more. George and I watched with straightened shoulders and haughty gazes as they left. Only then, after the door was closed, I allowed myself to slouch into my chair. George began to laugh. He came walking around and sank to his knees before me.

"Was I too harsh?"

"No, no," he said grinning. "At least not much."

"I have been wanting to tell them for so long. What they did to you and your siblings… promise me we will never treat our children this way."

He took both my hands in his and shook his head. "Never. I promise. But now, Mary, I actually implore you to rest. This was quite exciting, but I would hate to see you overexert yourself. And besides, I can't wait to tell the Queen about this. She won't believe me!"

"What, you can't tell her without me! I want to see her face too," I giggled. Then I looked at him with great, over-exaggerated puppy eyes.

"Damn you, woman, you make it hard to stay stern… Fine, but you will rest afterwards. And you will allow me to tell the story. No more excitement for today." His voice was quite serious now.

I offered him one of my hands. "We have a deal, my Prince."

He pulled me to my legs, and into his arms, and kissed me. "Prince George," he mumbled. "Actually doesn't sound too bad. I had not yet thought about the privileges and titles our marriage would grant me. If only I had known before, I'd have married you two years ago!"

"You idiot." I grabbed him by his collar, trying to scold him, yet I couldn't help but smile.

And George smiled, too. "You knew that when you married me. I am a foolish man, I thought it was sufficiently established."

"Aye, it was. I just wanted to remind you of it," I gave back.

"Duly noted. Now, do you feel prepared to see the Queen's face fall apart with laughter and disbelief?"

I giggled again. "No subject should see their sovereign like that!"

"You are most certainly right, my Princess," George agreed in a playfully serious tone. "But we are not mere subjects, are we, now? We are family."

"Yes," I exhaled, drinking in the beauty of what he had just said. "You, and me, and them. We're an 'us' now… and it shall be us against the world."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43 – In which I lost my brother**

I would not mind if you hated me for this headline – to some extent, I could understand your sentiments. Yet I am no longer young, or idealist. If my many years of life in Tudor times have taught me one thing, it is that while kindness might pay off, self-deception never does. This time is 'eat or be eaten', it's 'face it or die'. Or, to put it a little more gently, 'if there's an elephant in the room, introduce it'. So yes, I will not euphemize the events of 1540, nor will I sugar-coat them. Those were painful days that still sting my heart today, but they do not get less painful by pretending they had never happened.

Why, how, who, and what, you will now want to know. Of course. I'll indulge you, but please allow me to arrange my thoughts accordingly.

It all began in April, after the snows had thawed for good, and once more, an outbreak of the Sweat cursing through England. Oh, how I hated myself then for not having focused on general hygiene before! My pregnancy hormones made me quite outspoken about the matter, I'm afraid, at least in George's presence.

I lamented for hours the fact that I might have prevented hundreds of deaths, had I only seen it coming. After holding my hand, and offering me cake, and patting my back, George finally asked:

"Well, what causes it?"

I was stupefied, and much to my dismay, had to answer: "I don't know. Honestly, I'm afraid no one knows. I read about it, once, and there were theories as to what kind of sickness the Sweat was, but no doctor in my days could know for sure. The evidence was sorely lacking."

"But you must know something. After all the things you've told me – I mean, this Dutch apothecary you asked me to get here, to work with these unsavoury moulds to create… what was its name?"

"Penicillin," I explained. "A vain hope, I'm afraid. Even if by some miracle, he actually manages to produce it four hundred years early, it would still be an antibiotic. Meaning that it only works against bacteria."

"The little animals that cause illnesses," George finished, trying to prove that he had listened to my stories. "Why wouldn't that help?"

"Because we cannot be sure the Sweat is caused by bacteria. Remember I also told you about viruses?" I waited for him to nod. "Well, unfortunately, they do not respond to antibiotics, since technically they're not alive. They have no metabolism like other living beings, including bacteria."

He blinked, and frowned, and then whistled. "This is… awkward. But in a good way, don't get me wrong, love. It's just… the amount of knowledge you possess never ceases to amaze me. If only our lawyers knew as much as you, little law-mistress!"

"Actually, I've learned all of that in school. Biology class," I admitted.

"That's… well, never mind, you need none of my flattery. What we need now is a plan… especially for you. I have already spoken to your father, Mary, and he agrees that Hampton Court is too dangerous a place for a woman in your condition now. We'll retreat to my estates for the time being."

"What? But then how are we to do something about the Sweat, if we're admitting defeat and running with our tails between our legs?"

He firmly placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "How are we to do anything, about anything, at all, if you catch the Sweat and die? You haven't even disclosed a tiny little speck of your vast knowledge to me, Mary, as was just proven. If we lose you, we lose more than just one – or two – lives. And I…" He stopped, and bent over to kiss me. "I would lose it all."

"George…"

"There can be no discussion, not about this, I'm afraid. Cecily will oversee the packing, I have already informed her. Whatever can be done about this horrible situation can also be done from Cambridge, while I can sleep soundly knowing you and our little one are safe." Seeing that I was still not totally sold (Why, I keep asking myself now. He was absolutely right! Probably hormones, or something.), he helped me up and held my hands tight. "You saved me from death. Now allow me to save you."

I gave in, and I am forever grateful that I did. Besides, I wasn't the only one who fled the palace. My father sent the Queen to Hatfield, any even many of his trusted courtiers, including my Uncle Charles, were sent away. I implored George to beg my father to leave as well, but he adamantly refused. I only accepted because I could not remember any stories about King Henry ever catching the Sweat. So I simply had to trust that history would go as planned there.

What I didn't know, or couldn't have known, however, was what would happen to those that had not been there in real history. Only a few days after arriving at George's estates, news reached us from Hatfield that the Sweat was there. Many servants had fallen sick, including the Lady Bryan, but worst of all, the infection had managed to trap Edward.

My brother, my poor, sweet, five year old brother.

To say I was livid doesn't quite do my tantrums justice. As soon as I heard, I was so agitated that I wanted to run straight to Hatfield. When my servants (fortunately!) denied me that, I began to show my Tudor temper. I yelled at them, I called them names, I threw things. It would be easy of course to pin all of my madness on the pregnancy, but I don't think it would be fair. Most of it, I guess, was rooted far more deeply, in the painful belief that it was my fault. If only I had acted sooner, if only I had seen it coming, my little brother would not be in danger now. The anger I displayed was not directed at my servants, or George, even though they suffered from it. It was directed at myself.

I can never thank George enough for what he did next. By any right, he should have just locked me up in my rooms, as I was clearly out of my mind and unfit to make important decisions. I would have forgiven him for that afterwards. But that would have been unlike him. He was cleverer than that, so he did something far more sinister.

He invited my mother.

"You did what?"

"I've invited your mother, as I just said. Her carriage has just arrived, and I think she will not want to lose any time. I'll go and make sure rooms are prepared for her, so you two can be alone," he said jovially, and kissed my forehead. "Just speak to her, Mary. Do me the favour."

He wasn't even outside the door when Catherine barged in. Of course I was a little angry that he had invited her behind my back, but her open arms seemed so welcoming… so I dived into them.

"Mama," I wept. "My brother, Mama, they have not written any letters for two days!"

She embraced me, and held me for a while why I blabbered out my insecurities and fears, before speaking herself.

"This is not your fault," she simply said.

"How could you know, Mother?"

She smiled. "Because whatever happens is the Lord's doing. If someone gets sick, it is most often a test."

"Why would He want to test my brother? He is but a child, a little boy…"

"Perhaps He wishes to test his family, who knows. What is important, Mary, is that you should not trouble yourself with it so. Please believe me when I tell you this is best for you, and that you must look to yourself now," she said, looking at my belly. "I worried for my sister Joana's health when I lost your sister."

That, harsh as it was, calmed me down. I agreed to sit down with her and protectively put a hand on my belly. It wasn't even that large yet, but I could feel that I was changing. That everything was changing.

"But Mama… I cannot… I cannot bring myself to accept this, or to think this through. I mean, what if Edward doesn't pull through? What if…" I was already close to tears again. "What if he dies?"

She sighed. "Then I am sure God will welcome him with all His angels. The Prince is an innocent boy, and God will love him for it."

"But it can't be," I wept again. "After all I did to have him, to keep him alive…"

"I know, my sweet," my mother nodded, "that you were with the Queen when he was born, and his brother was lost. I know you fought for them, and I am sure God smiles upon your kindness. But do not be vain, daughter. God does not grant your heart's desires simply because you wish them hard enough. Were it so, you would have many more siblings, and I would still be Queen."

I looked her in the eyes, somewhat puzzled, trying to find out whether her tone had been regretful.

"But that's not true now, and whatever happened was the Lord's doing. And it is marvellous in our eyes," she quoted the bible, and touched my cheek. "Just look at you, mi hija. I have waited so long to see you like this… and now you're crying."

"Oh Mama…" I hugged her again.

"He is not such a bad man, your husband," Catherine whispered as she held me. "He had the good sense to call me here, to be there for you, even though he could not be sure I liked him much. I see now that I was right to give you my blessing. Whatever my misgivings about his religious beliefs… at least I can be sure he loves you, without question or hesitation."

I withdrew to wipe away my tears.

"And he loves your child. You're frightening him with your antics, Mary, and for once, I must absolutely agree with him. Even if the worst was to happen, it need not happen to you. Do you think your precious little brother would be happy to meet his nephew in Heaven, only because you fretted too much?"

Her bluntness hit me like a brick smashed in my face. "Mama!"

"I am speaking true to you, daughter, because no one else will. Yes, your brother's life is in danger, and it is a sad affair. And yes, there will be turmoil if he dies. But it also means that you will be Queen, and the child in your belly will be King after you."

"Mother, I know, but… how could God allow this to happen?"

She patted my hair and smiled. "Dear girl, do you truly not see why He would want you as Queen? I have accepted your refusal time and again, but surely by now you can see it yourself, if only you look closely. You have what it takes to rule this country, Mary, and from what I hear, you are enjoying it. You were born to be Queen, it runs in your blood and fuels your heart. Do not fight it."

"Even if… Mother, how could I ever rejoice at being Queen if… if it comes at this cost? This is not a game, or a story in a book… he is my brother, Mama, and I love him! How could I ever want the crown if it meant that Edward would have to die for it?"

I was already close to weeping again, but then, Catherine of Aragon said something absolutely remarkable:

"Because, my daughter, you might not have a choice in that."

Her words still echo in my head as freshly as if she had just said them. She was right, of course, and I realized it even back then. No matter how guilty the situation made me feel, if Edward died, I would be Princess of Wales once more, and there was no way of pushing aside that truth.

I like to remember that moment, painful though it was, because it imprinted in my heart one of the fundamental truths that would shape my adult Tudor life: you cannot choose what will happen, but you can choose your reaction to it.

A day after, a messenger from Hatfield brought us the sorry news that the Lady Bryan, among others, had died from the Sweat, and that the royal children were being relocated to Hunsdon House, along with the Queen. As sad as it was, the news made me giddy. All the royal children, he had said, for Edward had miraculously recovered. I was so relieved I almost fell to the floor weeping, but George caught me and promised me we'd ride for Hunsdon the following day.

Which we did, and after a week of agony, I was finally reunited with my stepmother and siblings. Anne was visibly pale and a little haggard as well, but she too seemed immeasurably relieved to have her son back. Elizabeth was restless, and clung to her mother like a shadow, while little Nellie was being carried around by nursemaids. She had been crying for days now, Anne told me. Edward, on the other hand, was still in bed recovering and unfit to see visitors.

Of course, I wouldn't have that, and after a few charming words between my husband and his sister, I was allowed a brief visit.

The little boy was not asleep when I came, rather, a servant was feeding him porridge. When he saw me, his eyes lit up.

"Mary!"

"My little prince," I cooed, and ran to his bedside.

"You're here," he exclaimed happily. "Mother said you couldn't come because of the baby."

I nodded. "I couldn't, but now I can. Your Uncle George is also here, but he took Elizabeth for a ride. If you want him to, he'll come by later and read you a story. Now, do you want to eat a little more? Thank you, mistress, I'll continue," I told the servant.

"It's alright," my brother said. "Elizabeth was very nasty the past days. It's good when Uncle George takes her out."

His honesty made me smile. "Nasty, hum? Do you need me to spank her?"

"No, I don't think she was that nasty," he mused. Then he looked at my body. "Mother said the next time I saw you, you would be wide, like Aunt Mary, because of the baby."

"Not yet, Eddie. The baby's still too small," I explained gently.

"But it is in there?" He pointed towards my belly, his eyes wide. When I nodded, he frowned. "How did it get there?"

"I'll explain it to you later."

He snorted. "That's what Mother said. 'When I'm older', she said."

"Yes, when you're older," I agreed nodding. "When you're older, Eddie, I will have to explain so many things to you, for you to be a great king. But not until you are truly well again, and not until you have finished your supper."

"Fine," he grumbled. Then, after a small pause of chewing, he added: "What happens when I die, Mary?"

I gulped. "What? Why?"

"When I was sick, I heard the maids say 'God forbid the little prince die'. Why did God forbid that? Would it be so bad?"

I ran my fingers through his hair, not knowing what to say. In the end, I opted for the safest way. "Did you ask your mother?"

Edward nodded. "I did, but she didn't say anything, she only cried. Please, Mary, what happens then?"

Perhaps I shouldn't have answered, since he was only a boy, but I felt he deserved the truth.

"Then we would all be terribly sad. Your mother and father, Uncle George and I, Bessie, Nellie… we would all cry very much."

"And who would be king after Papa?"

Actually, I was so surprised that a boy of five seemed to grasp the concept of being heir to the throne that I simply answered.

"It would be me."

"Ah, alright," he said matter-of-factly, as if that had put an end to his confusion. He took another spoonful of porridge light-heartedly, and then smiled. "Then it wouldn't be so bad."

Children never cease to amaze me. The way they say things that are on their mind, without knowing or caring what they mean to the ears of grown-ups… I bet little Edward had no idea just how his words had touched me, or why I put away his porridge and simply hugged him very tightly. But when he realized I was crying, he just put his hands on my hair and patted me.

"Are you crying because of the baby," he asked sweetly. "Lady Bryan says they kick the belly from inside."

I nodded, and tried to smile. "Yes, that's why I'm crying. But it doesn't hurt too badly, don't worry."

"Good. Tell me if it does. When I'm King, I'll punish the baby."

Now, I even grinned. "Oh, but you shouldn't, my Prince. This baby will be your niece or nephew. Family must stick together."

He seemed to ponder my argument, and nodded. "Alright. But tell me: what is its name? I asked the Lady Bryan, but she didn't know, and I forgot to ask Mother."

"That is not yet decided, brother dear. It depends on whether we're having a little girl, or a boy."

"Will you name him Edward, if it's a boy?"

I laughed. "You'd like that, don't you? No, I think there can be only one Edward in our family. I was rather thinking of naming him for Uncle Charles."

"That's no bad idea, I think. And a girl?"

"Catherine," I said without a doubt. "For the Marquess of Kensington."

"Alright," Edward said yawning. "I'm tired, Mary. Can you sing me a song?"

"Of course," I agreed, and tucked him into his blanket. "A song especially for you, my little hero. 'Just wait, the wide he may roam, always a hero comes home. He goes where no one has gone, but always a hero comes home'…"

I waited until he was sound asleep, and left with a smile on my face. Not in many days had I felt so deeply satisfied and happy, and for the first time, I was actually confident that I would make a fine mother. When I returned to the drawing room, I had not expected to find my husband and stepmother there, but I was glad nonetheless.

"He's sleeping now. I think he will be fine," I said gleefully, not yet noticing that they seemed rather sombre.

"Mary, come here," George ordered gently, and only then did I realize his stern face.

I complied, but frowning. "George, what is it?"

He motioned me to sit down, and took my hands in his as we both looked at the Queen holding a recently opened letter in her hands.

"Anne?" I asked.

"A letter from the Lady Mary Fitzroy," she explained. "Mary, I am so sorry, but your brother caught the Sweat. He didn't… he passed away yesterday."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44 – In which new faces came to court**

You may be relieved to know now that it was not the princely brother I lost, only the bastard – and, to my everlasting shame, I must admit I felt the same. For a second, at least, when the Queen informed me about Fitzroy's death, I was grateful that it had been him and not Edward. But if you felt that way, you, much like me, were wrong.

It is wrong to rejoice at someone else's death, at least if that person has never done you or anyone else any harm, and even more so if said person is your brother. Yes, I knew Hal not as well as I knew Edward, nor had as much investment in him, but I should not have been glad, not even for a second. He was a living, breathing person with hopes, dreams, and wishes, and for me to deny him that had been wicked.

Now, finally, I began to understand just how miserable his first wife's death must have made George. He had never liked her much, but she had been his wife, and they had shared certain things – perhaps even more than Fitzroy and I had shared, despite our father. Still, George had been relieved at her death, and had scolded himself for it, much as I now did because of my half-brother. To ease my conscience, I personally paid for masses to be held in his honour, and invited his grieving widow to my estates, even though my pregnant state might make her feel uneasy. It would still be better than returning to her overpowering father, Lord Howard, and apparently, Mary agreed with me.

She actually handled the situation much better than me. Perhaps she had known it would happen for a while now, and had prepared herself for it. Or perhaps she truly loved me as a sister, as we had once promised. But no matter the reason, Mary Fitzroy proved a heart-warming companion during the later days of my pregnancy. She insisted that, to distract herself from her grief, she wanted to focus on me and my growing family, and consequently refused to leave my side.

We didn't return to court, even though the Sweat was abated, but received regular letters from my father and stepmother, which Mary liked to read to me. I indulged her, even though George found it somewhat strange to have her with us.

"Do you think it is healthy for her to centre her mind on you so," he wondered one summer day.

"Perhaps not, but do you see an alternative? Send her back to her father? For him to marry her off again? Surely, you cannot want that," I reminded him. "She's your cousin."

George sighed. "I know, but I feel that this will not do her any good. She has traded one needy patient for another, but what will happen once you give birth, and have need of her no longer?"

"You're right. I'll think of something for her," I promised. "But for now, let her stay. She actually is a great help these days."

"Fine. But I'll ask our friend, Signor Ferrante, to look out for possible husbands at court and abroad. Mary is far too young to be a widow for the rest of her life, and I would rather we helped her choose than my uncle."

We agreed on that, and this was how we did it. A week later – we had not even had word back yet from Ferrante – my water broke, and it was Mary who sat right next to me when it happened. It was Mary who kept calm, ordered my maids around, and made sure George was informed. It was Mary who called for the midwife that I had chosen and specifically instructed. It was Mary who stayed with me and never flinched.

Not even once.

If you wish to know about my labour, then, you had better ask Mary Fitzroy. As vividly as I remember the Queen's labours, I cannot say the same for mine. Perhaps that is for the better, since what I do remember is not particularly pleasant. I have made my unease about the whole birthing process quite clear by now, I assume, so I need not point it out any further. What I felt, what pains I went through, needs no explanations, for in the end, only one thing counted. That's what I had learned from Queen Anne: when a breathing child is placed in your arms, you'll know everything has been worth it.

That's how I felt when they gave me mine. I was exhausted, of course, and unbelievably thirsty, but also more elated than I had ever been.

Mary went and got my husband, whom she'd sent away a few hours ago to get some sleep. She, too, could have used some sleep, but had adamantly refused to. Only when she got George to my bedside did she nod, and curtsey, and go to bed.

"You're alive," he whispered as he sat beside me.

"What else would I be," I chided him in a hoarse voice, although part of me felt immeasurably pleased to know that his first and foremost care was my health. "He is alive as well, you know."

It wasn't quite clear to me whether George was smiling, or crying. He stretched out a hand to pat the tiny little being in my arms.

"Is he, now?" He sighed. "Our Charlie… I can't believe he's so tiny."

"I was a little babe, too. Don't worry. He'll grow strong, eventually."

George shook his head. "I'm not worried. I'm just… it's… doesn't it humble you to know that we have created this tiny little life?"

I nodded, but then a yawn forced itself upon me, followed by both me and my husband laughing. "If by humble, you mean 'to make incredibly tired', then yes," I commented. "Do you want to hold him?"

"I don't know how."

"Neither do I, but as long as you support the head, I think you'll do fine," I assured him and handed him our son. For a long, magic moment I just watched my husband take our son and look at him as if there was nothing more precious in the world. Then, however, I remembered that we didn't exist just for our own pleasures. "Has the King been informed?"

"Not yet, my love. I came straightaway. But maybe Lady Fitzroy has done so, before going to bed. She is the most arduous servant."

I shook my head. "She's not a servant, George. She's my sister-in-law. And she did so well today… I hope Ferrante can find a good husband for her, such as I found in you."

"Ah, I'm afraid that feat might be nigh impossible, even for an Italian. There is but one man like me, and he is already wed," George returned grinning.

"You," I scolded, but then laughed and yawned again. "You need to inform the court, though. Honestly."

"And you need to sleep, my love," he objected. "Just this once, do not fret about the world. I'll take care of the King, and of Lady Fitzroy, and most of all of our little prince here. Get a few hours of rest, I command you to."

Yawning again, and not at all serious, I slouched deeper into the sheets and mumbled: "I'm the Duchess of York, you cannot command me…"

I didn't see George and our boy leave, but before I fell asleep, I heard the father speak to the son.

"Your mother is a very foolish woman. Good for you, she wouldn't have married me otherwise."

Three weeks after Charles' birth, when felt sufficiently recovered, we packed together our belongings and headed back to court at last. Not at all too late, since preparations for Elizabeth's seventh birthday were already coming along. She and her younger siblings still resided in Hatfield, however, when I arrived at court. We were ushered in rather quickly, since the King had informed us beforehand that he wanted to receive us formally and publicly. I was not too happy about it because I would have preferred to introduce my son to Their Majesties in private, but I understood his reasoning. This would be a show of strength for our dynasty. It was something I could, despite my slight displeasure, absolutely condone.

"Their Royal Highnesses, the Princess Mary, Duchess of York, and Prince George, Duke of Cambridge," the herald announced us.

We both knelt before the dais, albeit briefly, before my father came down the steps laughing, opening up his arms.

"Mary," he said, and kissed me on both cheeks. "You look good. And George… welcome back to my court!"

And so we both embraced the royal couple, all of us knowing that while it made us happy, it was not what we had come for. After we'd finished, George and I turned around to the crowd smiling as the herald knocked his staff on the ground once more.

"His Royal Highness, the Prince Charles, Earl of Lincoln, and the Lady Mary Fitzroy!"

She looked far happier than any widow should, but I think no one faulted her for it. Instead, people were now clamouring in her direction, though mostly because of the little bundle she was carrying. To the courtiers, he was not just a baby, he was hope. He was a promise for the future. A security measure to make sure no other war of succession, no civil unrest, ever came up again as it had in the Wars of the Roses. And yet, to me, he was so much more, but I liked their shouts of joy nonetheless.

Mary curtseyed before us and handed me my son. Then I turned to officially present him to the King.

"Majesty, please meet your first grandson, the Prince Charles," I said and gave him the babe as soon as I realized he did want to hold him.

With shining eyes, Henry took the boy in his arms and winked at his wife. "Good Lord, he is a beautiful lad. He'll be breaking the court ladies' hearts in no time," he said loud and clear, and when his Queen laughed, all the courtiers clapped and laughed too. "He has your eyes, Mary," my father then added in a much lower voice. It wasn't important information, but the way he said it made it feel so special. You could sense his paternal pride, which of course he could not publicly show as much as she showed his joy about the continuation of our dynasty. But to me, right now, he showed both. And he smiled.

"He is a wonderful addition to the family," Queen Anne chimed in and embraced her brother once more.

"Yes," my father then suddenly bellowed, and drew everyone's attention to us again. "Je suis en familie!"

We then left the huddled, gossiping courtiers behind then and took to the King's private apartments. The Queen wanted to speak to George and coo her little nephew, while I took the time to address my father in a less public situation.

"Father, surely you remember the Lady Mary?"

He nodded, and apologetically smiled at Mary. "Of course. My lady, we mourned your loss deeply. And we were quite surprised you turned down our invitation to court. My wife, the Queen, would have been pleased to help you through these hard times."

Mary curtseyed. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I felt my time and services were put to better use elsewhere."

"Mary was a true blessing," I added emphatically. "She acted as any good sister would, and supported me until Charles was brought forth into the world. Which is also why we named her godmother to our son. I hope Your Majesty does not mind."

"No, no," he waved it away. "You were right to do so. And I must thank you, Lady Mary, for the service you have done my family, and the realm. If there is anything you wish in return, you need only ask for it."

"With Your Majesty's permission, I would now like to stay at court, as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Mary or Her Majesty, the Queen. I would rather not return home. Without Hal, it would seem so empty."

My father nodded, and I could see the mention of his dead son pained him, even though he tried well to hide it.

"Permission granted. I'll put it to the Queen, and she will find a position fitting to your status. Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to speak to my daughter alone."

Mary curtseyed and withdrew with a smile, clearly happy that she did not have to return to her overbearing father. My overbearing father, on the other hand, wasted no time to put an arm around my shoulder and guide me over to a table. Dumbfounded, I looked at the drawings he had put there.

"What is it, Papa?"

"It is a palace," he announced gleefully. "A palace to put the French to shame! I had construction begin after your stepmother was returned to me, but now, the first good reports have arrived. Look at the plans, at the drawings. Isn't it the most splendid place you have ever seen?"

I did him the favour and skimmed through the papers. To a large extent, he was actually right – the drawings looked magnificent. I began to have an inkling as to where this was going.

"Impressive indeed. I believe there is none such palace in all of Europe."

"Ha," he said and clapped. "You have the right of it, Mary, my clever girl! Why, the workers and builders have been calling it Nonsuch Palace for quite a while now. A jest, of course, while we were looking for a truly fitting name. Now I was thinking about naming it in your son's honour. What say you?"

I looked at him frowning, then diverted my gaze over to my husband, his sister, and my little son.

"Prince Charles's Palace? Papa, I'm flattered, but I don't think it has a ring to it. People would find an easier name and stick that to it. It would be a shame."

Henry sighed. "Perhaps you're right. And in any case, it is not yet finished. Most likely not in a few years, unfortunately. I wish to see it built before I die, Mary. I wish to invest our dynasty in it, for all the Tudor kings to come. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Papa. And you can trust me to keep our dynasty up, whatever the cost."

"That's my girl," he said smiling, and kissed me on the forehead. "Now tell me about the boy. Is he all well? Does he feed well?"

I had to tell him everything, and apparently, the Queen put my dear husband through much the same tirade of questions. When we went to bed that night, we were quite exhausted, and I was truly glad to have a wetnurse to watch over Charlie. At least this way, I was able to get some sleep. I would need it in the days to come.

Why, you may ask.

You want an example of the newfound problems that I had to face? Well, just imagine the festivities my father had planned in Charlie's honour. Jousts and banquets and all that. And then imagine me watching the dances from afar, since I did not yet feel like being swirled around, sitting next to the Queen. And then imagine her face turning sour, just ever so slightly, watching as her husband dances with a sweet, flimsy young girl.

"Who is she," I dare to ask, since I have never seen her before.

"My cousin," the Queen says in a strange tone. "Catherine."

And well, you may have guessed it, then I realized who she truly was. Catherine Howard, come to court at last, and every bit as young, lively and flirty as she had been in history. God no, I thought, I can't allow that flimsy little thing to destroy my family and her life at the same time! I would have to stop her advances towards my father somehow, and to do that, I needed more information. I had been gone from court too long.

Fortunately, Ferrante hadn't, and had he not told me he wished to be my ally? Well, here was his chance.

"She's throwing herself at the King," I whispered to him that night, while we pretended to just stand by and chat idly and drink. "We need to make it stop."

"Who? Oh she, Mistress Howard? Don't worry yourself for her," Ferrante said grinning and poured me more wine. "She's just dancing with the King, there's nothing to it."

I took another sip and shook my head. "How can you say that? You don't know. And you see how she is behaving. She's a foolish little girl who hasn't been taught how to behave around royalty. I'm afraid no one has taught her anything about the harsh realities of life."

"Ah, well, you might be right about that," he agreed, and laughed. "But isn't this little speck of innocence in a world full of depravity rather refreshing?"

"The King certainly thinks so," I grumbled, looking at how bashfully Catherine was smiling at my father right now.

"You truly worry, don't you?" Ferrante frowned. "My Princess, please rest assured that Lady Howard is no harm to your father's marriage whatsoever. She is just playful, but I can assure you that there is no further intimacy between them."

I wouldn't buy it. "How can you be sure she hasn't bedded him yet, or at least tried to? He used to have quite the reputation."

He grinned. "Because I have bedded her," he then said, almost causing me to spit out my wine. When I looked at him stupefied, he winked at me. "I do have quite a reputation myself, you know."

"You have…?"

Ferrante nodded again and drank his wine as if nothing had happened.

"With her…? How, when, why?"

"Ah, my Princess, let a man keep some little secrets. Just don't fret about the lady anymore, she'll not be an asset to the King's bed, I promise. I am not overly fond of sharing, nor of giving away what is mine."

At this surprising turn of the conversation, I found myself simply nodding and then downing my wine.

"I believe I must render you thanks, then," I finally said.

"There is no need," he assured me, and offered to refill my cup once more. "Truly. It is a pleasure to have her, and if, by doing so, I am also doing a service to the most noble lady in the land, what better could I do then?"

I smiled. "I am glad your stay in England is working out so well for you, signor. Although you should know by now that the noblest lady in the land is Her Majesty, the Queen."

"Ah, yes, she is a formidable lady, from what I have seen and have been told, especially by the Duchess of Ferrara. But I would rather have your favour than hers," he admitted. When he saw my puzzled face, he added: "Her Majesty is a dazzling woman, no doubt, but her star can rise no higher. One day, she'll be a Queen Dowager, and only of ceremonial importance. Your star, however, is on the rise, and shall continue to do so. It is quite likely that one day, you and your husband shall be regents for the future King, and even when he comes off age, I doubt you'll lose the positions of power you have created. You are too conniving for it."

I must admit, his words of honest praise caught me by surprise, so the only thing I could think of saying was: "Careful, Ferrante, it is evil to imagine the King's death."

"And yet, alas, only a fool does not prepare for the possibility," he returned. "Now please, by all means, my Princess, go and enjoy the feast in the name of your son. You deserve to! Allow me to have your back tonight, with Lady Howard or whatever other threats you come to discover."

Even though I accepted his offer (because I was truly in the mood for feasting, and not for worrying), I did not fully trust him. Many years later, when I told him about it, he just laughed and said that he wouldn't have trusted himself, either. Still, much to my surprise, trusting him would turn out to be one of the wisest choices I had ever made.

So I found my way back to the celebrating masses, and opted to look for my sweet husband. It took me almost an hour until a servant informed me that he had seen the Duke of Cambridge leave a private chamber just minutes ago. With a mix of anger and fearful jealousy in my heart, I rushed towards that chamber, and all but stumbled into George.

"Where have you been?" I hissed at him.

"I had a conversation with my father," he said, blowing away all my fears in an instant. "Please let us not speak of it now."

I accepted, even though I was terribly curious, because I felt a little guilty for being jealous. There was no need to be jealous, I told myself, not with him. I would simply have to trust him and be patient.

Well, my patience was rewarded the day after, when we sat together for breaking our fast and he cleared his throat.

"He said he wanted to set matter right with me first and foremost, since I was his only son," George explained. "He is still not too happy about Charles being a Tudor, rather than a Boleyn, but he has accepted it, it seems. At least he made no more demands."

"Coming from him, that means something," I agreed. "Did we actually reach his heart, then? By putting him in his place?"

George shrugged a little. "I am not so certain it was our words. Mary, the truth is… my father is ill."

"Ill?" My words sounded surprised, but as soon as I had said them, I remembered that real Thomas Boleyn had not lived forever, either. He must have died some time around this time, as well.

"He did not explain it all, but I think he fears dying without our love, or at least our absolution."

"If he's willing to make amends, then by all means, call your sisters and speak to him. He's your father, Charlie's grandfather, and if there is a way to make peace, you should take it."

"I know," George said sighing. "But I offered him to meet with Anne and Mary, and he refused. I think his pride keeps him from it – not from admitting that he acted wrong with them, but from admitting his failing health. He was always so strong, Mary, and now that he's ailing… I think he cannot stomach it. That and the idea of finding an insignificant death, simply in a bed, with no one around."

I put away my food and took George's hand in mine. "No one wishes for a death like that."

"Yes, well, but what can I do? I cannot prolong his life, and if you cannot, then it is set in stone. And he's as stubborn as ever, he'll refuse a reunion until it is too late."

"Not if I can think of something," I said, and smirked. "Time might actually be working in our favour on this, at least this once. If you'll allow me, my love, I'll use whatever little knowledge I have of the future to find a way. I'll see to it that the odds between you and your father are settled, and that he gets an end worthy of the grandfather of future kings. Would that please you?"

"Well, it would scare me a little to know you possess such powers, but then again, I knew about it all before I married you… I shouldn't act too surprised now, should I?" He said, and grinned. "Honestly, though… if you could achieve that, somehow, then I would be forever grateful. It would mean so much to my family if we found this closure."

I nodded. "I know. And to give you happiness and peace was one of the reasons I came here in the first place, so I'll be damned if I didn't try my best."


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45 – In which war began**

To promise my husband a way of reconciling his father with his family, and of giving him a good, honourable death, had been easy. Waiting for everything to play out in my favour was much harder. In fact, it took me more than a year of waiting, and plotting, during which many other things happened. I'll be brief on them, for the Northern war lies much heavier on my memory than those stories, however much you may like to hear them.

It began with a woman's death, but I shall tell you about that in a moment.

What you need to know, at least, about the years 1540 and 1541, is that George and I focused heavily on bringing about our social changes. With the permission of my father, we turned many of the dissolved monasteries into public service buildings. We invited physicians from abroad to come and work in these houses, take care of the poor and their ailments and teach them about basic hygiene. It wasn't an easy feat, I can assure you – simply finding enough medical men willing to accept my ideas about hygiene wasn't easy. But with tenacity and a royal name, there is only little that cannot be achieved. By early 1541, we had also begun to employ teachers in these community buildings, offering free lessons in reading, writing and counting. To see whether it actually was an improvement, or whether we would need compulsory schools, was a matter for the future then. What mattered was that we were trying, and that opposition was fading. In fact, my father seemed to like our progress, even though he could not be bothered to inquire about it much. It was good PR to him, and he always liked that.

Another thing you should hear about is the scandal of 1541. A kinky affair, you'd say, and much to my dismay, my actions had helped facilitate it. Apparently, Ferrante, though being a very clever man at any other time, had actually become infatuated by Catherine Howard. So much so, he had pressured his wife of many years into a divorce, and when she had at first resisted, Ferrante had turned to my father. He, of course, understood the sentiment all too well, and convinced Ferrante to convert to the Anglican faith so that he, as Head of the Church of England, could grant an annulment. It didn't come to that, however, since Ferrante's wife was so shocked by his conversion that she voluntarily agreed to abandon their marriage and join a convent. In March 1541, Ferrante and Catherine were wed with great pomp in London, while his Italian family members all but denounced him as a heretic.

Lovely, isn't it?

Well, but what is done is done, and at the time I accepted Ferrante's life choice. I didn't think it wise, but I also didn't consider it my duty to stop everyone from their follies. It was his life, after all, and if he wished for a silly young bride, why not? All I hoped was that this time, Catherine would stay true to her husband.

I couldn't focus on it for too long, however, since finally things were set in motion. No too late, for George's father was already ailing. We had sent him the best physicians we had, but even they did not think he would live to see the end of 1542. If we were to find him a conclusion, it needed to begin soon.

In October 1541, my Aunt Margaret died, and with her the last ribbon tying together England and Scotland. We had never been on amiable terms since James' deceit, but now, things were getting worse by the day. Since James had married Marie of Guise, his leanings towards the French had become more and more obvious. Of course, I considered King Francis a good ally, but it was all too clear that this was a personal, rather than a political notion. My father and Francis would forever remain rivals, so it wouldn't take long for James' French bride to agitate both her husband and King Francis into anti-English sentiments.

And besides, James was trying to style himself as the most Catholic monarch there was, giving more and more power to bishops, while England was going her own path with the newly established Church of England. While officially being Catholic, I did not share James' sympathies here. The idolatry and superstition of Church practice had always been a nuisance to my mind, and even though I had to pretend otherwise, my personal leanings were actually reformatory. But no matter my preferences – England and Scotland were no longer at peaceful terms, and everyone knew it.

By Christmas 1541, we heard first tales of border raids performed by the Scots, and of course, my father was irate. He did not yet consider it a national threat, however, so he was reluctant to send his whole armed forces. I had counted on that.

"But we need to face these incursions somehow. We cannot let them go unpunished," I reminded my father when we spoke about the matter during the festivities. "At least send a few hundred men to patrol the border."

"Mary, sweet, a few hundred men would make little difference," he chided me.

I wouldn't let it go. "Perhaps if they were led by a strong-willed man?"

"Well, I certainly have no intention of going myself just because some Scots are being naughty," Henry laughed back at me.

"What about the Earl of Wiltshire?"

Now, George, sitting next to me, began pinching my knee under the table. My father, however, was clearly intrigued.

"Your father, hum, George? What say you – would he be up for the task?"

"Your Majesty knows that the earl has always been bound to serve you, in whatever capacity necessary," my husband answered reluctantly, just playing along.

"Good." My father downed his cup. "Then we shall send for him and inform him. Let us see if he can punish the Scots for their wickedness."

George nodded, and toasted to that, before asking me for a dance. I complied, knowing that it was his chance to speak to me in private.

"Wife, what are you doing," he reprimanded me as we danced.

"You asked for a solution. I have found one," I gave back smiling. "The war with Scotland was inevitable, and eventually, we will win. Now, when your father is sent away officially, you'll have a pretext to gather your siblings and take your leave of him. You can make amends under the guise of saying farewell."

George frowned. "But my father's health is failing, Mary. He is unfit to protect the borders."

"He would never admit to it, would he? He would go, and do his best, and whether the sickness takes him there or he falls in battle, he'll not die a poor old man in his bed, he'll die a war hero."

"That is your plan?"

"Well…" I sighed, but tried to keep up the pretence of a smile while dancing. "I cannot save your father. From what the physicians keep telling me, I guess he has some chronic disease of the bowels, but I can say, or do, no more. I am not medically trained, and you know it. So if I cannot save your father, I figured it was best to give him a chance for absolution while keeping his face. Make the best of a bad situation."

He smiled briefly, but then frowned again. "But how can I say goodbye knowing that I'm sending him to his death?"

"Everybody dies, my love. Your father knows that, and I am sure he would prefer his death to be meaningful. This way, he'll be remembered as a brave hero who died for his king and country. He'll be an idol for our son to look up to. Don't you think he'd want that for himself?"

The dance ended, and we were shortly interrupted. Both of us agreed in the applause before gracefully taking back to our seats.

"I like it not," George then admitted, whispering. "But I like all the alternatives worse."

This is how it was agreed upon. In January 1542, Thomas Boleyn received the official order to man the Scottish border, and came to court to take his leave. I was not present when he spoke to his three children, as I felt it inappropriate for me to be there. I had never particularly liked the man, and after our conversation before Charlie's birth, I very much doubted that he liked me. This wasn't about me, in any case. It was about Boleyn and his children, and how he would make amends.

When George returned to me that afternoon, after his father had departed, he kindly asked me not to inquire, and so I did not. His sister Mary, however, turned to me the other day. She pretended to be interested in idle chit-chat, but I could feel she wished to speak about her father. So I did her the favour of opening up the topic.

"George has told me your father left yesterday."

"Yes, to punish the Scots. Although I would have rather he didn't go. He seemed frail, even though he tried to hide it. Would you know more?"

I smiled. "Nothing that I could disclose without betraying my husband's trust."

"Ah, you," Mary gave back with a mix of anger and happiness. "George doesn't deserve such a loyal wife. But fine, tell me nothing, if you so wish. I know myself that this meeting was your doing."

"My doing?" I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think so?"

"Who else could have laboured to this end? Certainly not my father, or either my brother or sister. They are all too proud, too stubborn. It had to be someone whose common sense superseded their pride. I believe it can only be you, Your Highness."

"You're flattering me."

Mary shook her head. "Not at all. But I must trust that you know to which end you have done this. Tell me – do you truly believe my father to be successful? Will he be safe?"

"I'm afraid I cannot promise that," I tried to evade the question. "But he'll be proud to serve England, and that shall make him happy. He is my boy's grandfather, after all. I could do no less."

She didn't seem all too happy about it, but nodded and accepted my words. "Very well. And speaking of him: how is my little nephew? To think that I missed his first birthday is such a shame. I have seen him only twice. He wouldn't even recognize me."

"Don't trouble yourself, you have plenty to do with your own family."

"I know, I just wish I could be closer to my siblings, or my nieces and nephews."

"You know…"

I hesitated a second, and then decided that my spontaneous idea was not so bad after all.

"George and I were speaking of having Charles join my siblings at Hatfield. Elizabeth will soon be too old for it, and might come to live with me, to be educated in the ways of a princess. But you could bring your own children, and maybe act as governess to my son? So far, Lady Fitzroy has taken it to her to serve Charlie, but I am adamant that she forsake this position sooner or later. I fear she may be stalling another marriage out of fear, and it will do her no good to die a lonely spinster."

"Governess to a prince? My husband will not trust his ears when he hears it," Mary laughed.

"The prince is your nephew, after all. And I'm sure Edward and Eleanor will also be pleased to have their aunt around."

Mary smiled then, and agreed.

But that is not what I wanted to talk about, after all. Not all those private stories I keep telling you. I wanted to tell you about the war, and how it played out for England and me.

As you may have guessed, my plan came to fruition. Whether or not Thomas Boleyn had understood the motives for his nomination or not, whether George had spoken to him about it – I will never know, and was content to leave my husband this secret. But in the end, in April 1542, Boleyn got himself killed in defence of a small border town. The attack was abated, but the wounds he had been dealt proved to be fatal only hours after the victory. It was tragic – and perfect. We didn't even have to pay witnesses to enlarge the story of his valour.

Some stories tell themselves.

And as I had expected, the pains Boleyn had inflicted upon his children were now – at least mostly – mended by his apologies before leaving, and his death. What I had not expected, however, was how the story would reach my father. A tale of selfless honour and audacious tenacity made its way to him, apparently, telling him how the king's father-in-law had nobly defended the poorest and lowest among his subjects against the wicked pope-worshipping bastards from Scotland.

To say that King Henry was irate did not do the matter justice. He all but overreacted, and without listening much to my (or anyone else's) council, he ordered the English troops to be mustered. He even recalled Duke Philipp to be the leader of his army and ride north come the summer. I wasn't certain just how much fervour the real Henry had put into the Scottish campaign, but I was sure this was grander. Even parliament seemed to be enticed with the story of brave Sir Thomas and his martyrdom and had subsequently voted unprecedented taxation for war against Scotland.

Things were progressing faster than I had anticipated. And for once, I seriously lacked information. The only thing I remembered was the name 'Solway Moss', and that the Scots had been defeated there. Apparently, James would soon after take to his bed in illness, and die, leaving his new-born daughter Mary as his heir. I didn't know, however, when it would happen, and I was adamant about seeing him before he died. I had to.

If George, Mary, and Anne were allowed closure with their father, then I should get mine with James.

And while we're at it, in 1542, another person also got their much-needed closure: my father and Jane Seymour. He informed me that she had requested an audience with him, and that he wished for me to be present. To be frank, I had all but forgotten about her after the events six years prior, so I was quite curious as to what she wanted.

She was paler than I remembered her, and much more plainly dressed. There was no space for idle vanity in a convent, my father had said before she came, for that is where she had apparently been. After the execution of her brothers, my father had had half a mind to execute her as well, but when Anne was returned to him, he had softened. Jane had been released from the Tower and given into the care of a convent, for she was deemed mentally unstable at the time. It had taken her these past five years to regain strength, apparently.

Now she curtseyed before us, and I couldn't help but wonder if I had done what was best for her, or whether I had ruined her life.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness, I came to beg for absolution for my sins. I have sinned against both of you, and wish only to repent," she said timidly.

"Rise, Mistress Jane," my father told her. "We have received reports about your penitence. I am inclined to believe you, but it is not only me you deceived."

Jane nodded. "I humbly beg your pardon for the pain that I, and my family, have caused."

My father looked at me, and for a second I didn't realize that he was actively seeking my counsel. Then, however, I noticed, and joined in the conversation.

"You had better tell Her Majesty that, since it was her life that was almost lost, and only returned to us by miracle."

The old, proud Jane Seymour would have gulped at it, would have inwardly fought the notion of having to apologize to Anne. This one, however, simply curtseyed.

"If it be Your Majesty's wish, I will do so once you grant me leave of your presence."

"It shall be done," my father accepted. "And then, you shall be forgiven, Mistress Seymour."

I looked at her, and somehow pitied her. I would have done so much for her, just like all my father's possible wives, if only she had behaved sensibly. If she had allowed me to broker a Dutch marriage instead of throwing herself at the King… but it was too late now for that.

We watched patiently as she curtseyed again, and then left.

"Perhaps we can arrange a marriage for her," I then mused aloud. "She seems to repent her transgressions. If we left her to die a spinster, we'd condemn her for life. Is that not unjust?"

"Perhaps," my father agreed. "But I cannot bare to look at her. Once, I thought her an angel… but to know that she would have stood by and allowed me to lay hands on my wife, just for the sake of a crown… it makes me sick to the stomach. I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"I do. And if you so wish, you shall never have to look at her again. I shall take it into my hands to find her a husband, with your permission," I offered. "After I return from Scotland."

My father's reaction was sudden. "Scotland? What on earth would you do there? We're at war, Mary!"

"Which is precisely why I need to go there. Papa, I told you, we shall win this war, but we must also plan ahead. If only I got to speak with James, I know we could find an arrangement."

"I'm not letting you anywhere near that deceitful bastard!"

"But no one else could change his mind! If we don't act now, we'll lose our greatest chance for lasting peace on our island. Why can you not trust me with this?"

He rose to his feet to tower over me, but I wouldn't flinch.

"You're a woman. You should be nowhere near the battlefield."

"And if you so wish, I'll have George accompany me and make sure I stay well away of any fighting. But I must be there to meet with King James, or else our chances are forfeit."

Henry laughed darkly. "Send your husband with you, for safety? Do you think I didn't know you had him wrapped around your fingers completely? He'd do anything you ask."

"You think he would lie to his King," I angrily shot back.

"Oh, he may be a loyal servant, but he'll always be your servant first," my father claimed, and then suddenly allowed his face to soften. "This is how it is with you. You have a way of inspiring loyalty in men, daughter, that I cannot fathom or understand. It is not only George… your Uncle Charles, that Italian ambassador, even the Duke who betrayed your trust – they all have nothing but praise for you. They'd die for you as they would the Virgin Mary. Why?"

He came closer and ran a finger over my cheek. I just looked at him puzzled.

"It is a gift, child. To have power over men's hearts… use it wisely." He smiled. "If you feel you must go north, then by all means, go. But I'm sending Brandon with you, not your husband. And a physician as well. I will not allow any camp diseases near you, or any accidental wounds. Do you understand, Mary? Our dynasty needs you alive."

I nodded. "Of course I understand… papa. Thank you."

"If what you say is true, then there is no need to thank me. You're saying it is in the best interest of England, and for all my misgivings, I must believe you. I have trusted you before, and shall trust you now, even though I would rather you stayed. But if you think you can sway that simple-minded cousin of yours, so be it. Just make sure to do me proud. Make England proud."

Oh, and I would!


	46. Chapter 46

_Author's Note: Please excuse the long delay. I came down with the flu for almost a month, which made a lot of work pile up on my desk. Some of it is still there. Don't expect regular updates before July, please._

* * *

 **Chapter 46 – In which I saw James again**

It was painstakingly hot. The air was muggy and stifling, causing me to push a scented handkerchief onto my face before progressing. The servants must have stoked the fireplace all too eagerly, I assumed, going by the unmistakeable vapours of smoke. Perhaps they had simply tried to chase away the lingering smell of death. Everyone who entered this room could feel with all their senses that something – someone – was dying in here.

"Come to haunt me at last," a crooked voice received me from beneath a thousand pillows. "I wonder what you told the guards so they allowed you in."

"There was no need to say anything," I countered, drawing closer in search for his face. "The battle is done, the war is over. The troops have capitulated. This castle has surrendered to our forces. So they are no longer your guards, if you will. They're my guards now."

When I finally saw him, I must admit my heart broke a little. James looked incredibly pale and weak. This sickness, whatever it was, was practically eating him up alive. His lacklustre eyes caught my gaze. He grinned.

"Oh, yes, all hail the mighty warrior princess," he hissed. "Your royal prick of a father must be incredibly proud."

I raised an eyebrow and loaded my voice with irony. "Tut, tut, there is no need to stoop so low. This is a civilized country, is it not? And you and I are both royalty. We should set a standard for others, not bark at each other like filthy tavern patrons."

James squinted his eyes. Then he coughed loudly, almost brutally, as if his lungs wanted to be spit out whole.

"What… what do you want?" he panted. "Say it and be gone."

I frowned. "Why so angry? It was you who betrayed my trust, not the other way around. It was your country, your warriors, who attacked the Northern villages. I see that you must feel irritated, frustrated perhaps, with your current state, but do not presume to blame me for it. Everything I did was merely a reaction to your deeds, dear cousin."

James coughed again. "Have you come… to spit out your bile?"

"Bile? Do you believe I hate you?" I shook my head. "I wish I did. But you are my cousin still, and even if I wished it to be otherwise, there still is a tiny spot in my heart for you… well, for a certain earl, rather."

He tried to say something, but a cough shook him so violently he had to bend over and spit out bile himself. Literally, I mean. I waited for him to calm down again and handed him a cup of diluted wine.

"I sometimes wonder what would have happened, had you told me the truth. If you'd come out earlier, if you had trusted me instead of tricking me… but I guess such thinking is futile, is it not?"

"It…" James stopped again, looked at the cup, and then at me again.

"What?" I frowned again. "Do you actually believe I would try to poison you?"

"Poison is a woman's weapon."

I shook my head, making a miffed face. "As I said, there is no need to stoop low today. Let us be honest, rather. And in all honesty, cousin, why would I poison you when God has clearly decided that your life is over anyway? Who am I to doubt his will?"

"This is nothing to do with God's will," he coughed. "So… what… do you want?"

I sighed, and allowed myself to sit beside his bedside. He tried to protest, but in his state, there wasn't much he could do.

"You might believe I've come here to spite you, to berate you, or to glorify myself. But you will soon see that none of these are even close to the truth. I've come to talk about your daughter, Mary."

"Not named for you," James quipped.

"Oh, certainly she was named for your wife," I retorted smiling cynically. "Oh, while we're at it, remind me again: that French alliance your fine Scottish councillors were so fond of, how well did it go? That French princess you married, I've quite forgotten her name, tell me again – how long did she live after you married her? And when she died, and you were free, you chose to go for a French alliance once more. That French Mary, tell me, how many sons has she given you? Oh yes, I remember, they all died. You have nothing to show for all your efforts, nothing but a new-born girl, while I have already given my true husband a son and heir in only a few years of marriage."

Was that mean? Yes, most certainly, but I also needed to get it off my mind. The disappointment had been brewing inside me for so long, and I knew this would be my last chance to ever get it out.

"If you had not betrayed me…"

He coughed again and tried to rise from his bed. "Mary, I…"

"Hush," I stopped him, pushing him back. "There is no need for explanations now, and you still need your breath. You will need to make use of it once I have said what I mean to say."

"My daughter is my heir, come what may," James objected. "You can't dethrone her, not with any of your vile plots."

I laughed a little. "Oh, I don't mean to dethrone her," I surprised him. "Quite the contrary, cousin. I wish to ensure her succession. Come now, please, don't give me that look. You may be a liar and a breaker of trust, but you are not a fool. You know your Scottish earls and barons, and how kindly they will take to an infant queen. Your daughter will be pushed and shoved around, never to be her own mistress. That is, if she even survives her infancy. I believe there are some who would rather see your line extinguished if it meant they could rise even higher."

He didn't say anything to that. His eyes stared at me blankly.

"James," I now lowered my voice. "You must see that your daughter is in great danger. I know that now, here, on your deathbed, you might think there are more important things than a suckling babe you've never even seen… but in fact, there is nothing more important. I might have misjudged you all those years ago, yet now I hope I am right in assuming that you love her. She's your child, you watched the belly grow, and you know she has your blood. You cannot wish that fate upon her."

Now, James snapped out of it. "And you… of all people… would prevent that?"

I nodded. "She is of my blood, too. And a girl. I know the trials and tribulations of such a life, and if I can do anything to help improve other lives like mine, I will."

"I suppose your help would come at… a price."

Slowly, I nodded again as I refilled his cup. He drank just as slowly.

"Mary can be betrothed to my brother, the Prince Edward. We'll unite the crowns of England and Scotland at last. There can be peace throughout this island, peace and unity and stability. And in turn, Mary would be safe with us. I swear to you, on the damnation of my soul, that I would never hold the sins of the father against the daughter. If you assent, I'll protect your daughter as fiercely as if she was mine."

James coughed again, and then made a strange face that I couldn't read at all.

"Yours… your boy, what is his name?"

"Charles," I said proudly.

"You love him… and you are right, I love my daughter. And if you spoke true, I assume I would be wise to accept. Still… why do you ask me? Why not wait… until I'm dead? You could usurp power… isn't that what Tudors do?"

I sniffed, but allowed the slur to pass.

"The pact would gain greater weight with your support. Mary would know that her father loved her enough to make peace with his enemies, and do things he would have never done otherwise. And your quarrelsome lords would lose a strong argument against this alliance." After a moment of silence, I added: "Please."

There was no reaction, and I began to fear that he would die before I could get an answer from him. Only the painfully slow rising of his chest told me that he was still there.

"I…" He began, but his voice broke. I offered him more wine, which he refused. "I have come to respect you. I did not at first, but later… I was sorry to go along with… the charade, but my mother… well, it doesn't matter… now… You are here, you have forced my kingdom to its knees and still… I find myself wishing I had not betrayed you."

Suddenly, my ironic, self-satisfied attitude was gone. I had never expected him to actually regret his transgressions.

"You are… right. I should not have listened… to them… I should have married you." He coughed again, and bent over. Then, in an unexpected, swift strong move, his hand grabbed mine. His eyes found mine and fixed me. "She won't marry your brother… Mary… if she must… be sold like a prized horse… if anything… she'll marry your son."

My eyes widened.

He seemed adamant. "Say it and I'll agree."

A thousands thoughts were suddenly running through my head.

"My father…" won't like it, that's what I wanted to say. But James's stern face stopped me mid-sentence.

"Promise me," he whispered. "Promise me to take her… as you would your own. Promise me to give her to your son… to protect her crown… and you shall have my consent."

I gulped. Could I do this? What would my father say? It would be a bold move for sure. And yet, in the end, it wasn't any of my political concerns that made the decision. It was something in his eyes, his last rearing up of life force, that touched me. In that moment, I felt sorry for him, sorry for how things had gone wrong between us, and I could understand his sentiment.

"Mary will be betrothed to Charles, and I will see them wed," I found myself promising.

He squeezed my hand once more, nodded, and then let go. "Good. Bring witnesses… and a clerk… swiftly. I want no disputes and God knows… I'm not long for this world."

He was right, of course, so I got up immediately and turned to leave the room. But before I left, I heard his crooked voice again.

"Mary?"

"Yes?"

I'll never forget what he said next. I can still hear the very sound of his voice as he said it, even after all these years.

"Will you forgive me?"

I should have said yes without any further ado, but my mind was so preoccupied with getting the betrothal finalized that I mumbled some soothing words and went away. It was a lapse, and stupid little decision, but one of the few that I still regret to this very day.

Only an hour later, Scottish and English nobles alike had been squeezed into James's sick room, to help word and witness the betrothal contract. James signed it himself, albeit with some help, and I signed in in the name of King Henry. Bold move, indeed, I thought, but ultimately, I was sure things would work out well. My father might be angry at first, but I had so far managed to calm all his storms. Why would this one be different?

After we'd signed it, the bishop urged us all to leave. I objected, protested heavily, still wanting to say so many things to James… but I was denied. I had been given my chance to speak with him, and I had not used it fully. Now, I had to pay the price.

As I left the room, hearing how the priest took James's last confession, tears started welling up in my eyes. I had not anticipated this ending, not at all, and suddenly my emotions threatened to betray me. I rushed through the hallways in a frenzy, not knowing where I was going, not knowing what to do. I can't imagine what silly things I might have done, had I not happened upon a scene that pulled me back into reality brutally.

James was not even yet dead, perhaps still drawing breath, and yet here, in a hall, I found his great Scottish lords whispering and conspiring. My anger rose immediately. I had only overheard snippets of their conversations, but it was perfectly clear that they had little intention of upholding the betrothal and Mary's crown. When they became aware of my presence, they all bowed deeply, but I only shot them back a glance of ice.

"Your Highness," one of them said sweetly. "What a pleasant surprise. May I be the first to congratulate you upon the betrothal of the princess to your son?"

"Your king is dying, my lord. This is hardly the time for cheer," I quipped.

"Verily, good Madam, but there is naught to be done about it. Yet, if you seek support for your position with the Scottish, rest assured that you shall find a loyal servant in me."

Flattery. Empty, idle flattery. I was no perfect judge of character, but I saw through him like glass. He was merely trying to get on my good side so he could plunge a dagger in my back, and the others were no different. A pestering, cursed lot.

I smiled, but my smile became bitter as I spoke.

"I see what you are doing, my lord," I said calmly. "You are swearing to me now, but come the day, you'll seek to destroy me. Your sweet words are the poisoned honey you smear on the blade that you would slit my throat with. I know you will try, for you consider me an enemy. You'll betray my trust whenever it suits you. But allow me to remind you of this: far better men than you had sworn to do the same… Go and look for them now."

And with that, I turned around to go, leaving behind a baffled group of lords, who had probably never heard a woman speak to them like that. My heart jumped for a second, energized by the power my anger had given it. But then, it fell again as I heard the bells ring.

"The king is dead," someone shouted in the courtyard.

"The king is dead!" others echoed.

I gulped and tried to swallow my pain with it. This was not the time to be afraid, or hesitant. I opened the window right next to me. Nobles and servants were already gathering in the courtyard, listening to the bells and discussing this shocking news.

"The king is dead!" someone yelled.

I steadied my voice. Then, as loudly as I could muster, I allowed it to soar over the courtyard.

"The king is dead! Long live Queen Mary Stuart!"


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47 – In which I struck new alliances**

1542.

Patiently, I looked into the grey eyes of James. He wasn't the James I would have wished to look upon, not the one I once loved. Ever since that James, or rather my Earl Duncan, had died, I felt the pain of love long lost all too clearly. But that James was gone, and this James was here with me. Here at this godforsaken, frosty castle somewhere in Scotland, where by right I should have never been. I should have been home, celebrating Christmas with my family. But I wasn't. I was here.

"What is it that you propose then, Your Highness?"

I studied James' face to see if he betrayed any emotions, but sadly, he didn't. Not much, anyways.

"Your Lordship must naturally be upset. Had it not been for the birth of Queen Mary, you would have been next in line to the throne," I began carefully. "Now, you will have to contend with the Dowager Queen and that nagging Cardinal Beaton. Do not tell me you like it."

James Hamilton, 2nd Earl of Arran, slowly shook his head. "Your Highness is well informed about Scottish politics, but does not need to lecture me on them. It is well-known that both the Que- the Dowager Queen and the Cardinal favour Catholicism and French alliances, whilst I am a reformist and known for my distaste for the French. Still, I do not see why you, Princess, would come to me. I was under the impression that you adhered to the Catholic faith, just like our new Dowager Queen of the same name as you."

"Then you would be correct, my Lord, but still you would not know the whole truth. You have read the King's will?"

Hamilton nodded. "Everyone has. It has been published and read aloud in every major city."

Inwardly, I smiled. It had been some hard piece of work, but I was sure it would prove crucial in outmanoeuvring anyone who would oppose my plans for little Mary. Knowledge is power, isn't it? So I had paid riders and scribes, and had James' last words sent out wherever I could.

"Then you know that His Grace decided to side with England, with his true kin, in the end. We are one island, Lord Hamilton, and should not be divided by French machinations or matters of the faith. Queen Mary is my kin, and it was King James' dying wish to protect her by giving her into my care – because he knew me. He knew I would fight for her."

"Forgive me, Princess, but so will the Dowager Queen," Hamilton reminded me.

"I hold no love for her," I harshly replied. "If I have to fight her, I will. But it might not come to that, and this is my reason for coming to you instead of riding to Linlithgow and seizing the infant queen. I wish to invest you as Queen Mary's regent. No one has a better claim to it than you, my Lord, and the Scottish nobility will see it. Would they rather be ruled by a foreigner and a clergyman? Believe me, stubborn or no, the Scots will see that it was God's will we should be led by men of noble blood, not those in habits, and certainly not be usurped by foreign powers."

For a moment, Hamilton had smiled, and I had thought myself victorious, but now he frowned again.

"Some would consider you a foreign usurper."

"And I would put it to you to convince them otherwise," I said in a soothing voice. "Consider my offer, Lord Hamilton. You would have many years of ruling ahead of you, as rightfully you should. And with the support of England, you could make sure never to be overpowered by your enemies."

He nodded. "A tempting offer, Your Highness, but one that I cannot be convinced you can keep. Mary of Guise has powerful allies, and religious dissent is ripe in Edinburgh. I could never be safe from rival claims, were I to take up the regency."

"I have powerful allies too," I said in a much darker voice. "When Madame of Guise spent years introducing foreign customs to your courts and giving birth to dying sons, I have been abroad crafting alliances all across Europe. The Netherlands, Italy, even the heir to Guise himself are my loyal friends. If necessary, I can make doors all across the continent shut in front of the Dowager Queen. She will have to submit herself to your regency, or face the consequences."

James Hamilton looked at me now with the same curious scrutiny as I before had looked at him. Then he rose to his feet, ran his fingers through his beard, and cleared his throat.

"You are an interesting woman, Your Highness, which is more than I can say for most English lasses," he began. "To be honest, I had planned to take up the regency as soon as we heard of the King coughing. I am neither a fool nor a saint. And I am willing to take you up on your offer as soon as I see irrefutable proof of these strong alliances that you boast. Show me and I will be your man in Scotland."

I blinked. "Show you? How?"

"Your Highness will find a way, of that I am convinced. You Tudors are a shrewd bunch. In the meantime, rest assured that I will keep up the peace in Scotland and make sure Her Grace the little queen is unharmed. I will also not contest the King's will regarding her betrothal to your son… for now."

"It seems then that there is nothing left to discuss," I sighed, knowing that this was as much as I would get from a stubborn Scotsman. "With your consent, I would gather my troops and march back to London, where my family eagerly awaits me. I am sure Your Lordship will want not to waste any more time and ride to Edinburgh with the new queen. It is of paramount importance that the centre holds now."

Lord Hamilton nodded sternly. "The centre will hold, trust me."

With this agreement we parted, and the English army retreated from Scottish soil. I didn't know how to feel about it, whether to consider it a victory or defeat, or perhaps just a truce. But during these foggy winter days, there were many things I didn't know how to feel about. James' death had left a far greater wound in my soul than I had anticipated. I should have forgiven him, we should have never allowed our parents' anger to divide us, just how much we could have achieved… I knew it was idle thinking, but I couldn't let go off it. And then there was this other thing…

I was pregnant.

Only a few days after James' death, while riding towards Hamilton's castle, I had begun to suspect that my wariness was more than just the weather or the war. Secretly grateful my father had insisted on bringing a skilled physician to my war camp, I had my suspicions confirmed. Now, as we were heading back south, only two other people beside me knew: the physician and my dear Uncle Charles, who had seen me visit the physician and then asked about it, worried about my health. Both had sworn to keep it secret until I had had a chance to tell my husband and my family. But sometimes during our travel, I wished they would keep it a secret forever. I didn't know how to feel about this, now that my heart was bleeding for a man who wasn't my child's father.

As we approached London, I pushed all these dark thoughts away with as much power as I could muster, and put on a smile. It was the New Year after all, a time of merriment and joy.

My family welcomed me back with open arms, first of all my royal father, who all but beamed with pride. He seemed over the moon about our victory at Solway Moss, and sadly also about James' death. Apparently, news of my deal with James had also reached England by now, so he knew about the Queen's betrothal to my son. Since he didn't know about the possibility of her marrying Edward, however, he wasn't mad at my audacity as I had dreaded. No, instead he seemed very pleased.

"You have outdone yourself, my pearl. Now, England has a firm grip on these troublesome Scots."

"But as long as Queen Mary remains a minor and unwed, much can happen. We need to strengthen our alliances, and do so fast," I explained.

"Dear, dear, you have only just returned and yet you're planning another scheme? Mary, as much as I love your diligence, I must order you now to slow your pace. You might enjoy politics, but I am certain you will also enjoy time with your family. You have a husband and a son, girl, and your place is by their side."

I smiled and allowed him to order me, since I knew what needed to be done could only be done with his consent. Why not wait a few days, take his advice and relax with my family? And, to be fair, just seeing my little boy again was soothing for my troubled soul. And the way George smiled at me… I knew in that moment that, while I had once loved James and would love him forever with a little part of my heart, I now belonged with George. He was my friend, my ally, my confidant, and no dalliance with any Scottish earl could ever change that.

"I cannot believe you promised our son's hand without consulting with me," he told me as soon as we had retreated into our private rooms. His tone was playful, but I could hear a little truth to his accusations. We both looked at Charlie, whom we had taken with us and who was now happily playing on a rug in front of our fireplace. "He is still so young, Mary."

"Children younger than him have been promised before."

George sighed. "I know, and I do not object, not truly. It is a prestigious match. You wouldn't believe the look on Norfolk's face when he realized his blood will sit both the English and the Scottish throne. I'm glad the old man had the nerve not to brag about it this time, but only God knows how long his composure holds. Still, I cannot help but wonder… what do you know about that little queen?"

I sat on our bed, watching little Charlie, and sighed too. "Enough. I even had to read a play about her life in school."

"So she'll be famous, then. That's good. Is that why you chose her for our son?" George sat beside me, putting an arm around my back.

"Actually I meant to betroth her to Edward. It was King James who decided that, if anything, she should be wed to our son. He was adamant about it… and no, that's not why I chose her. Her life would be almost as tragic as mine without intervention."

George raised an eyebrow. "You said you would be known as Bloody Mary… what can be worse?"

"Well, she would be neglected by a number of husbands, disavowed by her own son, driven out of her country by her own nobles and in the end beheaded by her own blood."

"Ouch," George agreed. "So you are planning to rescue her as you did Anne, or me? Is that it?"

"That, and a better future for this island. The crowns of England and Scotland would eventually be united anyway, why not allow it to happen under more fortunate circumstances? Why not create alliances that will last?"

He nodded and kissed my temple. "I see. Wise indeed. And still, love, I cannot get over the fact that you gave away my son without informing me."

"I'll give you a new one for it," I joked and smiled.

George laughed. "Yeah, some day."

"In about six months," I replied dead-panned.

His laughter ceased. He looked at me with great, confused eyes, searching mine for answers. When I nodded, he immediately closed his arms around me and let out a strange sound of joy that I can hardly describe. We spent the rest of the night fighting over the choice of names and playing with Charlie, who would soon be a big brother. It was a happy night that almost made me forget about James and my Scottish troubles.

Almost.

In the following weeks of early 1543, I used my father's enthusiasm about my new pregnancy to gain his consent for arranging several marriages. Lord Hamilton wanted a proof of my alliances, my father was looked for potential marriage candidates for Edward and Elizabeth anyway, and Queen Anne was overjoyed once I let her in on my plan. With the help of our cunning Italian ambassador Ferrante, who was all too willing to help, the Queen and I expanded my plan. Together, we wrote letters and pulled some strings to make it happen.

In March, two important betrothals were all but finalized. My brother Edward would be promised to Eleanor d'Este, daughter of the Queen's old friend Duchess Renee. We did not only get support from one of the best connected noble families of Europe with his, but also a distant claim to the French throne, which flattered my father's ego. At the same time, another betrothal was only lacking the last signatures – that of Eleanor's elder sister, Anna (remember her?) to Francis of Guise, my one-time-suitor, long-term-friend and brother of the Dowager Queen of Scots.

In May I received word from the Lord Regent of Scotland, James Hamilton, that he now considered himself my loyal friend and ally. Whatever help his rival, Mary of Guise, could expect from her home was now greatly diminished by the fact that her father and his heir were indebted to me for brokering his heir's advantageous marriage. Once Francis and Anna as well as Edward and Eleanor were wed, we would all even be family. Hamilton was clever enough to see which way the wind was blowing.

"A toast to the Lady of England," Signor Ferrante commented on my success. "Such a shame that this little princeling in your womb will soon deprive us of your cunning presence."

I laughed. "Oh, it is but a few weeks that you will have to make do without me, Signor. And from what I have seen, you will get on splendidly well with Her Majesty, the Queen, in the meantime. She treasures the effort you have made on her son's behalf."

"I would have gladly done it on your son's behalf, also, but Your Highness took these matters in her own hands without relying on the services of her most loyal servant," he said in a mockingly sad tone. "I shall pray to God that he gives you another bonny son, and that this time, you will allow me to assist you in arranging his bright future."

"Signor, stop flattering me. What would my husband do if he heard you?"

"He would not mind it, Princess, I assure you. The Duke knows my admiration for you is purely that of one shrewd mind for another, of a servant who knows he has found the right mistress to serve."

The smile wouldn't leave my lips. "Hush still. Your wife surely wouldn't understand it the way my beloved George would."

"Alas, you might be right about that, Your Highness," Ferrante agreed sighing. "She has been rather distant these past weeks. Do you think she might be envious of my loyalty to my princess?"

"Well I certainly would," I gave back and grinned. "Go and care for your wife. You put so much effort into having her, now make sure not to lose her due to neglect."

"If my princess commands." We both laughed at the serious tone of his voice. "I wish you all the best for your confinement. May the Lord bless you with a healthy babe that you can name for your favourite servant."

"Hah," I exclaimed. "You peacock! I would name another son for my father first, or my husband, or anyone else, before naming him for you. A foreign name for an English prince, what were you thinking, Signor?"

It was idle barter, of course. Those were the days when this habit between Ferrante and me developed, and it would continue until our last days. Thinking back now, I still smile remembering all the clever little innuendos and jokes we exchanged over the years. He had meant to exaggerate when he called himself my most loyal servant, but many years later, I can now rightfully assert that he was. Which made the sad affair that followed soon after this conversation all the more painful for me.

I was still weary and sore from the birth of my second child when I received the letter. To be honest, I had little nerve for it, since all my thoughts were currently focused on him – my new baby boy. I must admit I had secretly hoped for a daughter, to have one of each, as George had put it, but once he was placed in my arms I wouldn't have wished him away. And when he had opened his lids I had seen those eyes whose appreciation I had sought my entire life – my father's. It had only been natural and right then to name this little prince for him, as I had announced to Ferrante. Little Prince Harry, as people would soon call him, kindled my father's pride in a way I could have never expected. Feast after feast was held during the summer of 1543, and my father didn't tire of pestering people with the fact that the 'Tudor line was secure' and that his 'seed was strong'. I considered it a little fatuous, but couldn't really mind my father's giddiness. He had always dreamed of sons, and now he had been given one and two grandsons as well. He was right to be happy.

So you can imagine the mood I was in when I found the letter – somewhat tired, somewhat elated, but certainly not serious enough to be prepared for what was to follow. To this day, it nags me that I have never found out who put the letter on my desk. I was still churched, after all, so only few people were allowed entrance to my birthing chambers. Who then could have done it, and why? I will never know. What I know however was that I instantly recognized the words on the parchment, even though in this world their meaning was different from what they had historically entailed.

It read:

 _Master Culpeper,_ _  
_ _I heartily recommend me unto you, praying you to send me word how that you do. It was showed me that you was sick, the which thing troubled me very much till such time that I hear from you praying you to send me word how that you do, for I never longed so much for a thing as I do to see you and to speak with you, the which I trust shall be shortly now. That which doth comfortly me very much when I think of it, and when I think again that you shall depart from me again it makes my heart die to think what fortune I have that I cannot be always in your company. It my trust is always in you that you will be as you have promised me, and in that hope I trust upon still, praying you that you will come when my Lady Summerford is here for then I shall be best at leisure to be at your commandment, thanking you for that you have promised me to be so good unto that poor fellow my man which is one of the griefs that I do feel to depart from him for then I do know no one that I dare trust to send to you, and therefore I pray you take him to be with you that I may sometime hear from you one thing. I pray you to give me a horse for my man for I had much ado to get one and therefore I pray send me one by him and in so doing I am as I said afor, and thus I take my leave of you, trusting to see you shortly again and I would you was with me now that you might see what pain I take in writing to you._ _  
_ _Yours as long as life endures,_ _  
_ _Katheryn._ _  
_ _One thing I had forgotten and that is to instruct my man to tarry here with me still for he says whatsomever you bid him he will do it._

It wasn't treason, not this time, but still the words made my blood freeze. That silly girl, whom I had wanted to protect just like any of my father's wives, had done it again. And to make matters worse, she was doing it to a man I had just begun to consider a true friend. If I never told him, maybe things would go smoothly, but still… what kind of friend would keep that to themselves? And on the other hand, what kind of scandal could I cause be revealing this?

For a second I was tempted to throw it into my fireplace and let the purity of the flames burn away all the darkness. Things were finally going well again for me and my family, why did this have to happen now?

But as I looked at the dancing flames, I knew that fleeing the truth would not do. I folded the parchment, straightened my shoulders and sent word to my father and the physicians that I demanded my churching to end.

* * *

 _AN: Sorry for the long delay, I was on holidays :) Expect an update for 'Hers is the Fury' soon, too. Feel free to review and share your ideas for upcoming chapters. Cheers!_


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48 – In which two threats emerged**

Much to my dismay, I have to admit I chose not to inform Ferrante of the letter I had received.

 _I never longed so much for a thing as I do to see you._

After being churched and formally re-introduced to court, I had other worries after all. There was my correspondence with Scotland, which was adamant to my plan of keeping my little namesake queen, Mary, alive and well. There were our alliances with the continent which needed to be kept up. There was my father's temper, as well as that of his wife, which were never easy to balance. And of course, there was my own family. Thinking of it now, so many years later, it feels strange to ever remember a time before I had become a mother. Before Charles and Harry had been there.

 _It makes my heart die to think what fortune I have that I cannot always be in your company._

There was much else to focus on. New battles to be fought and old ones to be ended, such as when I finally managed to find a husband for Jane Seymour, as I had once promised my father. With the help of my cousin Mary, I had found a Dutch count, Jacob van Wassenaer, whose wife had recently died. Now a widower with three little children, he was eager to have a new wife, and he even remembered Jane from the time when she had visited Mary's court alongside me. I stood by as Jane, whose dowry had been paid by my father as was promised, boarded the ship that would take her away from England forever. I searched her eyes for remorse, for sadness, or even for the desperate madness that had driven her to the convent for so many years, but none of it was there. She simply shook my hand, smiled, and told me she hoped to find happiness at last.

 _And thus I take my leave of you, trusting to see you shortly again._

Yes, there was so much on my mind. Being the Lady of England was a full-time job, even with George's support, and there were days when I'd fall asleep at my desk writing and receiving letters. I surely had many reasons to focus on other things than this foolish little letter I had found. I tried to silence my conscience by reminding myself that there were so many things more important to me, to England, than one flimsy fling. My letters could save and improve the lives of hundreds, of thousands. What was one silly letter compared to that?

 _I would you was with me now that you might see what pain I take in writing to you._

But my conscience wouldn't remain silent.

 _Yours as long as life endures._

I had stored that fateful letter far away, yet still it was there, ever present, in my head.

 _Katheryn._

Her words replayed in my mind. They snuck into my thoughts whenever I wasn't watching, whenever someone said something similar, and most of all, whenever I saw Ferrante. _You should tell him_ , my own inner voice would whisper then. _He is one of the closest things you have to a friend, he trusts you and your judgement, yet you deny him the truth._ I tried to smile, tried to discuss politics with him, tried to push it all away. I would only hurt him if I told him, there was nothing to be gained, I couldn't risk another scandal like the one he had caused while trying to marry Kitty. I had no time for it.

 _As long as life endures._

It pinched my heart to think of what that stupid girl was doing. Again. Again! Why, why would all of Henry's wives be just as foolish as they had been in real history? Why had it taken me years to reunite my mother and father? Why had Anne risked to anger him? Why had Jane offered herself to him despite my best intentions for her? And why would Kitty betray her new husband, who was not nearly as gross as her real husband would have been?

 _As long as life endures._

These words killed me. And then, a few weeks after I had been churched, they made me snap.

 _As long as life endures._

Ferrante had just arrived for a private audience, bringing with him important letters he had received from continental friends. He seemed to be in a jolly mood, productive, chattering and altogether just the man I knew him to be. A witty man, a charming man, a decent man. A man who deserved to be treated with respect, the respect I now realised I was denying him by withholding the truth.

 _As long as life endures._

If I didn't tell him, I would have to bear that shame as long as I lived. Whatever politics he wanted to discuss, I decided it had to wait now.

"We need to talk."

His smile stopped for a brief second, but then he took a seat and poured himself a cup of wine.

"Your Highness is in a sombre mood today, I take it. Alright then, even though I vouch these letters will interest you a great deal, go ahead, mighty princess. What is it you need to tell me so ardently?"

"This is no laughing matter, Signor," I reprimanded him.

He shrugged. "Everything in the world is a laughing matter, and nothing is a laughing matter. It depends on how you want to feel about it. And please, my princess, how often must I remind you to call me Ferrante? I am but your humble servant."

"You're a good man," I agreed with a sad smile. "I wish I did not have to hurt you, but… I can't keep it to myself."

"Hurt me?" He put down his cup and laughed. "Sweet princess, the only way you could ever hurt me is by sending me away from your presence."

 _Charming as usual,_ I thought. _He'll never allow me to tell him the truth if I allow his veil of irony to surround him. I have to break it._

"Your wife has been unfaithful to you."

There was a moment of silence, in which a hundred emotions hushed over his face. I never knew what the first question in his mind was, but the one he finally chose to ask was:

"How would you know?"

"I like to be informed about noteworthy things," I said simply. "This is how I came into possession of a certain letter in your wife's hand. It's dedicated to Master Culpeper, my father's groom."

His face changed visibly.

"I take it you know the man."

"Si," he growled in his native tongue. Then he rose, and stared into the fireplace for a long time. Finally, he turned around again. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "It is her handwriting, and her words. Even the spelling mistakes."

He laughed sarcastically. "To think I've been trying to teach her…"

What could I have said? I wanted to defend her, to tell him she was only a young girl, but honestly, I suppressed my own urge to do so. What she did in history was somewhat understandable, if still stupid. This betrayal was certainly less dramatic, but also less understandable to me. Ferrante was such a charming man, and even if she had fallen out of love with him, how could she betray him thus?

His hollow eyes searched for mine. "What am I to do?"

"Sign… Ferrante, you shouldn't be asking me."

"Who else would I ask? Who else could I trust? I have commanded myself unto you, Princess, and seeing that you were there only one willing to tell me the truth, when others must have surely known and laughed behind my back… what are they saying, I wonder? 'Look at the balding fool who shunned his wife of many years for a pretty little Jezebel.' I'll be the laughing stock of Europe in no time." He sighed sadly.

"No, Ferrante, I…"

"Why?" He interrupted me. "Why would she do it? Does her letter say?"

I shook my head. "There is no mention of you…"

"But she speaks of an affair? A physical intimacy?"

"I'm afraid she speaks of love more than desire. Ferrante, please, do not take it to your heart, she is just…"

"Just what?" He interrupted me again. "Will you explain to me what is going on in her head, or will you excuse it?"

I flinched. "Unfortunately, I can't do either. I know nothing of her thoughts, and I am just as puzzled as you are. Even if your marriage was faulty at times, she should have known better than to do what she did."

"How can I look her in the eyes and ask her, knowing that I mean nothing to her anymore? After all I've done, after all I've given her…" His eyes caught mine again. "Would you ask her?"

"Me?" I almost shrieked.

"I could not trust anyone else to find out, and I beg you, Madam, since I must know. I am forever your servant, but in this, I must ask. Please."

He seemed so desperate, so lost, the only time in both our lives that I would see him like this. I wished I could help him.

"Ferrante, I can't. I… either she tries to flee from all accusations, and lies straight to my face, or she'll give me sorry excuses, or worse even, she tells me a harsh truth you wouldn't want to hear. You don't deserve such pain, and I could not promise to keep my calm in her presence, knowing what this foolish girl has done to you."

"And I would not ask you to," he admitted coldly. "I may have loved her, may love her still, but I have never respected anyone as I respect you. I trust your judgement, my princess. If you find her undeserving of mercy, then so be it, and whatever sentence you pass on her I shall accept. But do not ask me to pass judgement, for no one can be victim and judge at once."

"Neither should the victim's friends be judges to the crime," I reminded him.

Strangely enough, my words seemed to make him smile. "Alas, then, there is one good thing come out of this, if anything – to know you consider yourself my friend."

I realised then that he was right, that even though neither of us had spoken of it so far, our relationship had changed beyond that of mistress and servant. That we were standing here having this conversation not because I needed him to serve me, but because I needed him to know the truth. The whole truth. He deserved it.

"I'll speak to her as soon as I can."

"Thank you. But before you do, make sure to read the letters I have brought. They may not be as important to me, but certainly to you, Princess."

I raised an eyebrow. "You want to return to business?"

"I'd much prefer to, if Your Highness doesn't mind."

And I didn't mind. If it helped him to clear his dark thoughts and focus on something that wasn't heart-wrenching, how could I refuse? And to be quite honest, I don't know what would have happened if I had refused, since the letters he gave me were of extraordinary importance.

France and Spain were close to war again, all his sources agreed. What was more, both of them would be seeking England's support sooner or later, since we were well connected and could boast an ever-growing navy. The more Ferrante told me, the clearer it became that we were heading for the war which would bring my father to the siege of Boulogne. But fighting in France would never be a good thing for the English.

 _You'll find Calais engraved in my heart,_ my real life alter ego would have once said after losing the last English foothold on mainland Europe. Boulogne should have, by any rights, been engraved into Henry's heart. So many dead people, and to what end? A pyrrhic victory if there ever was one. I had to prevent it.

Yet, if my father smelled what was brewing, there would be no more stopping him. He had been aching for a war, for glory, for eternity… if he found out there was going to be a war and that kings were trying to charm him into joining, not even an angel would be able to pull him back. And worse even, if he found out I had secretly been trying to avoid it, there was no saying what he would do. Maybe he'd just be angry and slap me (metaphorically), but maybe he'd fly into full-blown Tudor rage and accuse me of deciding things for him (which, technically, was some kind of treason). I had to choose – the security of my country now came at the cost of risking my own position, my relationship with my father, perhaps even my freedom or life.

Saving England from the disaster of Bolougne was worth it, though. It had to be.

Luckily, Ferrante agreed with my reasoning, and promised to send out more inquiries into the plans of my cousin the Emperor, who, historically, would convince my father to join him in this foolish war. I, on the other hand, would write to my cousin Mary in the Netherlands and urge her to stay out of all factions. She was too valuable an ally to be lost over such trifles as the egos of her brother and King Francis. Together, Ferrante and I hoped to manage to stay low-key, keep the catastrophe from happening, and keep both our necks.

I remember that night, and the days that would follow, as one of the hardest times of all my life. I was fighting on two fronts, one political, the other personal, but both ran down to my core. If I didn't succeed on the political battlefield, my country would suffer, and if I couldn't clear the Kitty Howard mess, it would make my friend suffer.

There were moments when I thought both cases were lost.

One of them came when I confronted Kitty, which ironically happened in a situation not too far from the infamous conversation the real Mary would have had with her. Only this time, our roles were far different – she was no queen, with no crown atop her head and no maids to follow her, and I wasn't the poor bastard spinster real Mary had been. Still, my reserved calm mirrored that of real Mary, and Kitty was just as carefree and haughty as she would have been in another life.

She had been invited to my rooms, and she came happily oblivious as to why I had called for her. Then, as I sat reading a letter, a lady informed me Mistress Katherine had arrived. I put down the papers and saw her standing there, in her fashionable dress, with her arms on her hips like the sweet, petulant child she was. I rose in the most regal fashion I could muster and slowly strode towards her, two of my ladies in tow. When I stopped, she curtsied before me.

"Your Highness."

"Mistress Katherine, it is good to have you here. We have not been as well acquainted as we should, given how dear a servant your husband is to me and to the crown," I began carefully. "I hope your marriage is becoming to you?"

She smiled brightly, and nodded. "Your Highness is kind to ask. My husband treats me well. Very well! He gave me the nicest pair of shoes only the other day. I am glad to have him."

It was idle chatter, sweet banter of little consequence, but knowing what I knew it hurt me to hear her say it.

"Forgive me, but surely a lady who speaks so highly of her husband should be seen in his company more often," I couldn't help but remark.

She blinked a few times, but didn't respond.

"I noticed, as did everyone else, that lately you did not show your husband the respect to which he, as your consort and better, is entitled. Your mind is too occupied with shoes and gems and dresses, and you try to please yourself more than anything else, it seems."

Apparently, she took my words as an affront. Good, they were meant as such!

"Do you mean I do not try to please my husband?"

"I think you desire almost nothing else than pleasure. It seems it pleases you to do nothing else but wear pretty clothes and dance. Some people consider that frivolous in a wife whose first and foremost duty is to bear her husband sons. Unfortunately, for all your attention-seeking, I see you are still not with child?"

Her gaze flocked to my ladies now, and back to me. She felt uneasy, I could sense it. Her hand wandered to her stomach, instinctively.

"I believe it is improper to ask about other people's marriages like this…"

"Improper." I repeated dryly. "Improper, she says. Mistress Katherine, allow me to educate you on the meaning of this word, which quite obviously you have not used much before. What is truly, and utterly, improper, is for a wife to betray her husband's trust. For a young lady whose husband tore the world apart to have her, whose husbands showers her with gifts, to neglect her wifely duties and seek comfort in the arms of others. What is improper is for someone like you to write something like this."

With that, I produced her letter from my sleeve and put it on the table. Quiet shock dug itself into her face.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself…" I asked and waited, and when she didn't reply, I angrily added: "… whore?"

She sniffed. "I am no whore! How dare you speak to me like that?"

"I dare because I can. You, Mistress Katherine, are a heinous adulteress. Any court would find you guilty with evidence like this, and it is only out of respect for you husband that I have refrained from presenting this letter to His Majesty."

"No, you can't," she exhaled. Her eyes clung to mine now. "It's your fault. It's just you, you're jealous because you're much older than me, and because Ferrante chose me, and not you."

I frowned. "What? Do not delude yourself, girl, to think I would harbour any feelings beside respect for your husband. I am not to blame for your wicked wantonness. Who would ever act so lewdly as you did with Master Culpeper, I wonder? And why?" I took a step towards her, clearly intent on intimidating her with my "I-am-the-princess-face". "Why could you do such a thing to a man who loved you so?"

She gulped. "I… I love him, please, it wasn't my fault. I love him, of course I do."

"Be precise. Who are you talking about – your husband, or Master Culpeper?" A thought crossed my mind. "Or are we speaking of Master Dereham?"

Now, her face turned to utter shock. It had been a stab in the dark to assume her former lover had come to her as he had in history, but apparently, my guess had not been too far from the truth.

"You do not understand," she mumbled.

"No, I don't. But I'm asking you to make me understand. How could you bring yourself to betray such a man as your husband?"

"I… I couldn't…"

"Couldn't do what, Mistress Katherine?" I wouldn't let her go and drew even closer. "What could you not? Be honest? Speak about your feelings? Use your wits before pulling down another man's breeches? Tell me, for I truly wish to know. What – could – you – not?"

She stared into my eyes blankly. Then she fell to her knees.

"Forgive me," she sobbed, trying to clutch to the hem of my dress, which I instantly pulled away. "Please forgive me, forgive me. I meant no harm! No harm! It wasn't my fault, it was Culpeper, and Dereham! It was them!"

I should have felt pity for her. She was just a girl after all, a foolish one, yes, but a girl.

But I wasn't moved by her, not at all. Maybe it was because of my sympathies towards her husband, maybe because of the Tudor morals that I had absorbed in so many years of being here, or maybe it was simply because I had never had much patience for people who were pathetic liars with terrible self-control. Whatever it was, it filled my voice with ice.

"Spare me your lies and excuses, Mistress Katherine. I shall not get the truth from you, shame. But I will get another thing from you – you will go to your husband, and you'll tell him the truth, the whole truth."

She dared to look at me again and shook her head fervently. "I can't!"

"You can and you will. Allow me to make it plain for you, since apparently you do not understand what it means to be ordered by your betters – if your husband does not know the truth by tomorrow, I will make sure everyone knows. I will drag this whole ugly affair in front of everyone's eyes, I'll make sure Dereham and Culpeper are whipped through the streets for their disgusting behaviour, and I'll make sure you regret ever single wanton pleasure you received from them in a nunnery."

"No," she yelped.

I saw the despair in her eyes, and could plainly hear it, but I turned away. "Leave, Mistress Katherine. You have overstayed your welcome."

She continued to sob without me turning to face her again. I waited sternly until she collected her wits, pulled herself up and left sobbing quietly. Did that make me a heartless bitch? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the truth is – I didn't care if she considered me a heartless bitch, and neither do I care if you do. _Groigne qui groigne, ansi sera._ Let them grumble, this is how it's going to be. Anne Boleyn's motto could have been mine at times, and never more than in that moment.

But to be honest – I had no idea how it was going to be. Would Katherine follow my advice and come clean? Would Ferrante forgive her? Would Culpeper keep his mouth shut? And, much more importantly – would we manage to circumnavigate the war brewing between Spain and France, or would the whole nasty Kitty affair soon become a sad little footnote in my personal downfall? I had altered history so much in so many ways that there was no longer any certainty for me. What would my actions cause? I had no idea.

 _Groigne qui groigne, ansi sera_.

I had no idea what was going to be.

And I certainly would have never expected the Kitty affair and the upcoming war to end up being one and the same issue.

* * *

 **AN: Needed to split chapter 48 since it was getting too long. Took me long enough to find the right words anyway... Too much work in real life is lethal for creative writing, it seems. Anyway - Part 2 is coming up next explaining how the seemingly unimportant matter of Kitty's betrayal and the big issue of war are interconnected. Stay tuned and feel free to speculate on how these things are connected, whether or not Katherine will do the right thing (whatever YOU think it is), whether or not England will actually join the war, and which betrothal Mary will arrange for her sister Elizabeth. Cheers!**


	49. Chapter 49

**AN: Here's the second part I promised. Hope you enjoy and remember the fact that this is NOT a self-insert fic (nor do I agree with all of the actions of the narrator).**

* * *

 **Chapter 49 – In which I dealt with the Devil**

Some things you see coming, some things you don't. And some things just surprise you in such an utter fashion that "surprise" just does not seem to be the right word. Looking back now, the year 1543 was just that for me – more than a surprise. To clarify this highly confusing and turbulent time for you, allow me to point out what I expected to happen:

I expected Katherine Howard to run to her husband, fall to her feet and beg forgiveness.

I expected Ferrante to grant said forgiveness and find back his strength.

I expected Dereham and Culpeper to see reason and leave Katherine for good.

I expected my father to go on ruling England, blissfully unaware of the brewing storm in Europe.

And I expected myself to remain as I had always been, somewhat scheming but mostly benevolent and just.

After all I've said so far, it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that none of these things actually happened, but it surely came as a surprise (or more than that) to me.

And it was George, of all people, who dealt the first blow to me. Since I was so busy writing letters to my continental friends in order to avoid English participation in the war, I had asked my husband to keep a watchful eye on the whole Kitty affair and report back to me what had happened. Sadly though, his report was not what I had hoped to hear.

"No?" I asked, stupefied.

He shook his head. "Apparently, no. The servants have not overheard a single conversation in the past few days that remotely resembled what you expected. No apologies, no crying, no begging."

"Do you believe the Howard girl simply forgot what I ordered her to do? George, she may be silly, but no one can be that foolish without forgetting how to breathe."

"I would not think so either, my love," George said with a smile. "Rather I believe that, however unfortunate it may be, you were wrong to place your trust in her well-behaviour. The girl is either too dumb or too blind to see what is good for her. I cannot entirely fault her, though… she is enraptured with that Culpeper fellow, it seems, and we both know what love can make foolish people do."

With that, he kissed me on the cheek, momentarily driving away all the dark thoughts clouding my mind.

"Of course," I admitted. "But it got us in trouble as well. We nearly caused a scandal in Italy, just as the Howard girl will do now if she does not return to sanity soon. This isn't the 21st century, married women cannot just sleep around in utter disregard of their marriage vows. And she's a face at court, to make matters worse. If she was just some gutter strumpet, no one would care, but she's the ambassador's wife!"

George nodded, but his grin indicated that he had left the serious part of this conversation.

"Are you trying to tell me you come from a paradisiacal time in which all women are sleeping around?"

"Oh you," I scolded him, but still had to laugh. "This isn't about my time. And no, it's not a womanizer's paradise either. It's just a different set of morals."

"But it produced you, my lovely wife. Surely that proves your morals must be superior. Why judge poor little Katherine by different ones?"

He tried to kiss my neck, but I withdrew a little, my head in a frown.

"You can't mean it, George. This is not a joke! And even IF I wanted to judge Katherine by my moral standards, she'd still be a stupid slut to me," I blurted out angrily. "She has hurt our friend for no apparent reason at all, just because she had no control over herself whatsoever. That kind of betrayal is not tolerated in my days either, although there are no laws forbidding it. But she'd risk being called names still. And in any case…"

"Hush," George wrapped his arms around me. "Don't fret, sweetheart, I'm only teasing you. I know you mean well, especially for Signor Ferrante, and I understand your anger. But I can't change the facts for you. The damsel has not followed your orders, it seems, and continues her ways with Master Culpeper. Do not shoot the messenger, please."

His words forced me to smile. "Of course I won't. I have never doubted you were on my side, I just allowed my emotions to get the better of me. Please believe that…"

This time, it was an opening door that interrupted me. Quite angrily, we both turned to face it since such an introduction into rare royal privacy was rude, if anything.

Two of my father's manservants were standing there. "His Majesty requires your presence, Your Highness."

"That is no excuse for barging into my apartments, good sirs. It is highly improper. But do tell His Majesty I'll arrive within the hour if he so wishes."

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but the King gave orders to bring you there now," one of the servants said, and with a glance at George, he added: "Alone."

George and I looked at each other, trying to read the other's face. He seemed worried, and I tried to reassure him, even though I myself was quite puzzled by this. But I did what I had to do, put on a stern face, straightened my shoulders and told the servants to lead the way.

When we arrived in my father's council room, it was empty safe for him, facing the window, with his back turned towards me. I didn't need any explanation to see that something was wrong, to feel the tension in the air, but for once in my life, I had no clue what was going on. The servants left, and yet still my father remained quiet.

It was eerie.

"Your Majesty?" I anxiously broke the silence.

It still took him another minute to finally turn around. "Francis and the Emperor are at each other's throats again. There will be war," he simply said, and dropped a pile of papers on the table. "Chapuys has conveyed his master's offer for us to join in the glory and reclaim France for England once and for all."

Henry looked at me, expectantly. I gulped.

"Your Majesty must be overjoyed to hear it."

"I am indeed. It was past time that puffed-up Frenchman was put in his place, as every good Englishman would agree. Only I wonder why I would be told by that viper Chapuys, when I have the Lady of England and all her continental connections to keep me informed about such vital matters." His voice had progressively turned darker, and now, suddenly, it turned black. "Did you know?"

A harmless question, it may seem, but the way he put it, it was by no means harmless to me.

"Your Majesty, I can assure you…"

"Oh, spare me your lies," he suddenly spat, slamming his fist on the table. With that, he all but threw a letter at me. "This was found in the Italian ambassador's rooms yesterday. Read the date. Read it! A month ago. A month ago they already knew about the war, and they sent the letter here, to England. Why was I not informed?"

"Majesty, I…"

"You what?" Now, he was yelling. "Did you know, and choose not to tell me, or did your precious servant know and choose not to tell you? Tell me, Madam, which is it – are you a traitor, or are you useless?"

"Papa, please…"

He approached suddenly, making me recoil in sudden panic.

"Do not dare to call me that when you have so blatantly abused the trust I put in you! There can only be one reason to withhold information such as this from me, your king – if you are a servant of France! Tell me, Mary, are you a servant of France?"

"Certainly not," I said as quickly as possible, hoping that he would not interrupt me if I spoke fast.

He huffed at me, grabbed the letter he had given me from out my hands, and threw it on the floor angrily. Then he stormed back to the window and breathed in heavily.

"It is to be determined who and what you truly are. I will have the whole matter investigated, and until the matter is cleared, you are under house arrest."

I wanted to protest, but his tone sounded so final.

"Go."

Now I didn't want to protest anymore.

Instead I retreated, and fell into what seemed a catatonic stupor for a day or two. I just couldn't bring myself to believe I had gambled high and lost. Could it be? After all this time? It didn't seem possible.

And to make matters worse, George soon after reported to me that Katherine Howard had not only refused to explain herself to her husband, but had basically disappeared from court. There was no trace of her, or of Culpeper, or even Dereham.

I could have given up that day. Everything I had aspired to achieve, I had failed at. All of it had gone wrong. Terribly, miserably wrong. The temptation to give up was certainly there, dangling in front of me. I was so close to grabbing it, so close – but then a thought crossed my mind. And it wasn't one of those hopeful, optimistic, never give up sort of thoughts that idealists will make you believe change peoples' lives. Oh, far from it! It was a dark, conniving, bitter thought.

 _If life is trying to screw me up big time, why not screw back?_

I'd love to paint myself in a better light by claiming that I pushed the idea from me, that I would not be so unscrupulous as to sacrifice others to save myself, but honestly, I see no point in lying to you. As soon as I had the idea, my mind was set. I told myself all of these fine, morally upright comments, but there was no dissuading me anymore, not really.

Either them or me. The choice was easy.

Confined to my rooms or no, I still had many friends, and if my father had truly wished to outmanoeuvre me, he should have had all my letters read and prohibited all access to my rooms. He didn't, and that was my chance. All I needed to do was give a few orders, and send some letters, and the dark deed was done.

Two days letter, the King called upon me again. My heart beating like a drum, I curtsied before him, anxiously awaiting his verdict.

Henry sighed. "Oh Mary."

"Your Majesty?"

"What kind of mess have we gotten into?"

I did not respond.

"For all your wits, you missed something so important… it is a shame."

"Forgive me, Majesty, but I do not understand."

"No, of course you don't," he said, and it sounded so much softer than before. "Sit down."

I did as I was told, trying to remain as stern and unmoved as possible.

"Your uncle Charles has uncovered the whole plot behind this treason. It wasn't you who played the French king's tune, I know that now. And it wasn't the ambassador either."

"It wasn't?" I feigned surprise.

My father shook his head. "It was his wife."

"What? That little airhead?" I continued my charade.

"Airhead she may be, but she was certainly clever enough to intercept her husband's letters. Together with her lovers, who were also in France's pocket, she withheld any information from the crown to make sure England would not threaten the frog eaters."

I frowned. "What lovers?"

"A most shameful affair. That wicked little witch took not one, but two men to her marital bed. One of them was my own groom, Culpeper. To say I am disgusted by this heinous treason would be grossly understated. You find me a man in disbelief, Mary. A man betrayed."

"But now Your Majesty knows the betrayal was not on my side?"

"Of course," he assured me, putting his hand on mine. "I should have never doubted you, Mary, I know you want what's best for England. But who would have believed THIS, had Brandon not uncovered it? To think that Signor Ferrante divorced his own wife for that little Jezebel…"

I nodded. "He is a victim of this crime just like Your Majesty."

My father sighed. "Like all of us, it seems. These bloody days are breaking my heart, Mary, for wherever I look, I see betrayal." He sighed again, even more deeply. "I've ordered the ambassador released immediately."

I gulped. He had put Ferrante into the Tower? God, how close we had been to our demise…

"And his wife?"

"Has fled court, together with her lovers. Cromwell found one of them trying to board a ship in Dover. The man, Dereham, has not spoken yet, but Cromwell is sure to provide us with helpful insights soon. He has ways of making people speak. Don't worry, daughter, we'll find that licentious whore and my dishonest groom. All will be well."

My hands were still trembling from fear what he might have done to me, to my family, had Henry managed to uncover the truth. But I couldn't let it show. I wasn't allowed to show signs of weakness, not even to my own father.

"May I see my sons?"

"Of course," he agreed, seeming rather absent-minded. "I'll have them brought from the nursery straightaway. Oh, Mary. What are these days we're living in?"

"Forgive me?"

"I have ordered Signor Ferrante to be brought here, to speak with him in person. I was considering offering him a pardon for his wife, if she accepts the veil and retreats to a nunnery. But I'm not sure whether he will accept. God knows, if Anne had done to me what his wife did to him, I'd have her head."

He didn't know how true his words were to me, or how much they chilled me to my bones.

"You will have to put it to Ferrante, then. Let him decide."

"And he'll put it to you," my father returned. "Don't act surprised, Mary. Did you think I would not notice how close the two of you have worked together ever since you suggested him as our ambassador? I may be old now, Mary, but I'm not a fool."

I smiled. "You are most certainly not old."

"Oh, but I feel it," he protested. "Go now and see your boys. Tell them their grandfather will come to visit them soon. And expect to see your Italian friend tonight. He'll ask your guidance, no doubt, so you had better prepare an answer."

"I will," I assured him and curtsied. "Thank you… papa."

This time, my use of the word made him smile. It was a smile that still haunts me today. I had gotten off the hook by lying and by manipulating my own father. If he knew, he'd never smile at me like that again. But when I left his rooms, returned to mine, and was finally allowed to see my babies again after almost two weeks of seclusion, I knew it had been worth it. With George by my side, carrying Charlie, and little Harry in my arms, nothing else mattered. Whatever I had to do to protect them, I would. No matter the cost.

Later that night, I was also rewarded by seeing Ferrante again, alive and mostly healthy, although the Tower had gifted him with a severe cold. Still, his eyes were surely not red from that alone. His face was pale and puffy, his shoulders slouched. These past weeks had not been kind to him.

"Such lovely boys," he remarked as George kindly left our parlour with our children so that Ferrante and I could speak.

"I'm sorry," I replied, assuming he was thinking about never having kids like these with Katherine.

But he shook his head. "What for?"

"For…" Telling you about the affair? Getting you into the Tower? Accusing your wife of high treason? How could you put thoughts like these into words? "For everything."

"There is no reason to apologize, Your Highness. I am certain everything you did was necessary, and for the better."

I nodded reluctantly. "Thank you. Will you sit with me?"

"I'd rather stand. I… these days have given me too much to ponder, and it seems pondering is a matter that must be done standing upright. At least as upright as I am still capable of."

"Ferrante, your wife…"

"Will get what she deserves. You saw to that quite thoroughly."

I sighed. "I never wished for it to go thus far."

"No. No, of course not. Just as you did not in Ferrara, the night my mother died. Just as I never wanted to hurt Isabella, or lose my children. My daughter Anna died while I was here, and I never even found the time to go and mourn at her grave. And Andrea, my youngest boy, I've never even met. What was it all for, I wonder…"

"This doesn't have to be the end. Tell the King you're asking for a pardon. Katherine will join a convent, you'll be free again. Go home and ask Isabella for forgiveness. Go find your children."

He laughed hollowly. "What would that make me? The man who drives his wives into the arms of God. What a mockery I made of myself… No. I appreciate your concern, my Princess, but I burned bridges when I left. My children are better off without me, living with my sister Eleonora. And Isabella… she has made her peace with it, or so I've heard. No. They don't need me anymore, my place is here."

"And Katherine?"

"Katherine." His face darkened. "They'll burn her when they find her. And to my eternal shame, a part of me longs to see it. Longs to see her scream in hellfire for what she has done… but burning is for heretics, and traitors. As much as it pains me to say, she is neither."

"Did you tell His Majesty?"

Ferrante shook his head. "The King believes what he wishes to believe, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. But you and I both know the accusations are untrue. She could have never pulled of an elaborate scheme of treason." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Someone far cleverer, however, could have. And it makes me wonder just how much else a witty person like that could have achieved. See, I had many days to ponder in the Tower, and I asked myself – wasn't it quite the miracle that the Queen should be found alive after she was allegedly murdered?"

Suddenly, all blood escaped my face. Where was he going with that?

"Such a strange chain of events, given that the prime witnesses here were the royal princess and a lady who later rose from obscurity to being a Duchess."

I raised a hand, trying to defend myself. "Ferrante, I…"

He stepped closer and put a hand on mine. "There is no need to speak, your face tells me everything I need to know. And I'm glad for it."

I frowned. "Glad?"

"Glad to know I never misjudged your wits nor your will to go beyond the usual if necessary. Glad to see you have the stomach and the guts to keep silent for so long. This is what I truly needed to know. A good ruler will appear to be benevolent, graceful, and magnanimous, but must always be capable of the opposite if necessary – for the betterment of all his people."

"Macchiavelli?"

Ferrante nodded. "It seems you are living up to his words in perfection. So allow me to renew my vows to you. I'll remain your ever loving servant, and all your secrets shall be safe with me." He sank to his knees.

"For God's sake, rise, please," I tried to pull him up again.

"The only thing I ask," he continued undeterred, "is that you go to her when they find her. I know I should go, but I cannot stomach the thought of seeing her, and listening to her pleas. I know now that you will endure it. Say you will, and I am yours as ever I was."

To be honest, I didn't like the idea of seeing Katherine's tearful face either, but the price was fair. One painful moment in exchange for loyalty and safety. I agreed, and when Katherine was brought to the Tower a week later, I paid my dues.

Her clothes were torn and dirty, her hair unkempt, and certainly she had been crying. She looked pale and almost fragile. It was hard not being overwhelmed with pity, but somehow, I managed. When she saw me, she stumbled through her cell and fell on her knees before me. It made me feel just as uncomfortable as her husband kneeling in front of me had, although for different reasons.

"Your Highness, oh Your Highness, forgive me, please! Let me out of this place, I regret my actions, please."

I remained stern. "Regret? You are to be tried for treason."

"I told them, Your Highness, I told them it was wrong! I've never done anything of the sort! I know nothing of France!"

"That is for His Majesty's court to decide."

"Please, I must write to my husband, he'll speak for me, I know he will. He knows I'm no traitor."

I looked down upon her. "Your husband won't come for you."

She shook her head. "I know he's mad, but he'll see reason, if only I can speak to him. I just need to speak to him and everything will be well. Please."

"Mistress Katherine, he will not come. Your husband has asked me to come in his stead and tell you there will be no forgiveness. He'll pay for a priest to come so you may atone for your sins, and he'll donate your belongings to the London parishes in hope to cleanse your soul. That is the only support you can hope for."

"No!" She shook her head even more madly, and fell on her side. "No! No, it's not possible! No! Why? Why me? Why?"

I turned away from her, and looked at the bars blocking the little window in her room. It could have been me in here, I thought with a shudder.

"You played and you lost," I whispered, half to myself.

Apparently, Katherine had heard me anyway. "But I didn't mean to play any games! I didn't mean any of it!"

"Unfortunately, you do not get a say in whether you play or not," I explained to her. "And if you play the game of thrones, there is no middle ground. You win or you die."

She gasped. "No."

I'm sorry, a part of me wanted to say. Sorry for doing this to you to save myself… but another part of me wasn't sorry at all. She had been just as foolish as in real life, even though I had tried hard to protect her. And if her loss meant I got to play another day, to live another day with George and my babies, how could I truly be sorry?

So I said nothing. I looked at her misery for a moment a two before asking the guards to allow me out. I heard her wailing as I left, and it followed me through the corridors of the Tower.

Sometimes, even today, it feels like her cries follow me still.

But if I allowed that to drag me down, I'd be just as lost as she was. Instead, I had to continue, I had to make do with the ugly situation that my father had accepted the Emperor's offer of war and would likely destroy the relationships I had built with Francis. That was a defeat I was unwilling to accept. Yes, the matter had almost destroyed me, but almost dying never changes anything. And certainly not me.

"Give me a pen," I told Ferrante after I had recounted my visit with his wife. "We need more allies if we're to avoid the catastrophe of this war."

"But you already have your cousin and mine."

"They do not have the army to stop this. I need a king," I explained my thoughts. "Paper?"

Ferrante handed it to me. "So who will you write to?"

I dipped the quill in ink, full well knowing I was going to change history yet again. "Sweden. King Gustav has a son quite the age of Elizabeth. He's sternly Protestant, and will be glad to offend my cousin the Emperor for me in return for a bride of such noble pedigree. He might just be what we need."

"Do you think the King will take kindly to you arranging a betrothal for his daughter?"

"The Queen will once I make her understand how useful a Protestant match like this would be, and how powerful Elizabeth could be as Queen of Sweden," I assured him. "And if the Queen understands, the King soon will too."

He nodded. "Then I defer to your judgement, my Princess."

"Good. Make sure the letter finds its way once I'm finished. Oh, and invite the Spanish ambassador to my rooms."

"Chapuys?" Ferrante frowned. "Why him?"

My eyes darkened. "He must have known something about our plans, of that I'm sure. It was his words that threatened our lives… and I do not take kindly to that."

"Still, I was under the impression Chapuys was your mother's ally, and yours as well."

"Ally." I laughed. "He was – before he plotted to have the Queen killed with my brother in her womb. Ally, pah… no. I once promised him that if he ever acted against me, I would see him die in agony."

My mind wandered back to our conversation long ago.

"So please, Ferrante, call the ambassador to my chambers. Let us find out what he knows, and what he did. I need to remind him I'm a woman of my word, and who knows? I might just have to make good on my promise."


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50 – In which I began to build a future on the bodies of my enemies**

"Tell me again, please, Mary!"

With a solemn smile I looked down upon my sister Elizabeth, now not so little anymore at 10 years of age. She looked sweet in her nightgown with the funny little hood, but I knew she wouldn't be sweet for much longer. The sharpness of her mind was ever growing, I could see it clearly even though I saw her only on rare occasions like this, when she was invited to court.

"You have heard the story so many times," I complained. "You need to sleep now."

"But it's my favourite, and no one else but you can tell it. Mary, do not make me beg."

I sighed.

"Fine, but just this one story, and then you'll be an obedient little princess and sleep tight."

She nodded eagerly. Her eyes lit up.

"Alright. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a young girl."

"That's Catherine," Elizabeth blurted out.

I pretended to be miffed. "Are you telling the story or am I?"

"You're telling it, Mary. I'm sorry."

I nodded. "So, where was I? Ah, yes, there lived a young girl whose name was Catherine. Catherine was a bright girl, well read, and very clever. Soon, people began to notice her brightness, and talk of her marriage began. In the end, she was invited to the court of the grandest empress of her time."

My sister's red head shot out from underneath her blanket. "Elizabeth!"

"Yes, the Empress Elizabeth," I agreed in a half-scolding tone. "Elizabeth's only heir was her nephew, Peter, who was not a very good heir. He was lazy and childish and liked other countries better than his own. So the empress knew she would have to find him a good bride to make him a good emperor. For that reason, she chose Catherine, who excelled at literature, theology, and any other subject. Catherine studied hard to learn about her new people, and she was well loved for it."

Elizabeth smiled brightly at that.

"Then came the day when the old empress died, and Catherine's husband was crowned. She hoped the crown would make him grow up, but it didn't. Day by day his foolishness alienated more people in the country – the army, the church, the nobles. Soon Peter's actions threatened to turn the entire realm into open revolt."

"But revolting is unnatural," Elizabeth exclaimed.

I nodded. "So it is, sweet sister, yet what Peter did was also unnatural. And in their despair, the people whom he should have cared for, as God's law demands, turned to the only person that could help them." I paused dramatically.

Elizabeth took the cue. "Catherine!"

"Indeed. They made Catherine their one true empress, and everyone followed her. Peter was sent away from the capital and died soon after, but Catherine remained with the reins of power in her hands. She continued to govern her land justly and ably for many more years, expanding its territory, solving many social problems and bringing peace and justice to everyone. Even when she was still alive, the nobles of her country held a parliament to award her the title "the Great", and so she is known to legend."

"Catherine the Great," Elizabeth concluded. "Mary, do you think there could be an Elizabeth the Great, too?"

"Of course, if she was bright enough, and just as hardworking and fair as Catherine the Great. For a great mind, there is almost nothing that's impossible."

My little sister smiled. "Thank you, Mary. I'll sleep now, I promise."

"Good girl. Dream well, and don't forget your morning prayers."

She nodded very sternly and pulled her blanket higher up. I smiled, blew out her candles, and left them room. When I had just closed the door, however, my heart almost stopped. Someone appeared from behind me and startled me enormously.

"What a lovely story."

With my heart still beating, I turned around. "Your Majesty."

"Though I wonder why it is 'Catherine the Great', and not 'Elizabeth the Great', anyway," Queen Anne mused. "I wonder what message it sends to my daughter."

"But this is the legend. It is not made up, and I cannot change names by will. And besides, I think Elizabeth full well knows what message the story sends," I protested. "She can achieve greatness."

Anne nodded. "On that, we can both agree. But I came to see you about your proposal, which I am not sure I like. Please join me in the parlour so we may speak."

Having wanted this conversation anyway, I accepted and followed her.

"So… Sweden. Why, Mary, I must ask. What is there for us in Sweden? Your ideas for Edward, I must say I wholeheartedly supported, not only because Eleanor's mother once was a dear friend of mine. But Sweden?"

I frowned. "Your Majesty is not kindly disposed towards the match?"

"I am rather surprised," Anne sighed. "Sweden is no traditional ally of ours."

"But new traditions can be made. I was under the impression that you would be glad to offer your daughter to a reformist kingdom rather than, for example, the sons of my cousin the emperor."

"Why would you advocate that? Forgive me, Mary, but your beliefs are known to be very Catholic."

"Aside from the point that I can accept other people might believe differently," I said nodding. "I accept that your beliefs are not mine, and that you might be more inclined to side with King Gustav than with me. I also accept that Elizabeth will be influenced by you, rather than me. All I wish for her is to be safe, and happy, and to have a chance for greatness. She can be so much more than a Duchess of Orleans."

Anne bit her lip for a second, and I wondered what thought she was hiding. Then, she sighed again.

"What do you know about Gustav's son?"

"Prince Eric is of an age with Elizabeth, and the king's eldest son. He was raised a Protestant, but is not known to be zealous. My friends have not heard much about him, but what they said was not at all alarming. Apparently, he is a perfectly normal 10 year old boy."

"Yes, but would he be kind to Elizabeth? Would he include her in his rule?"

"Who knows?" I returned. "But I doubt he will be able to resist her charms forever. Elizabeth always finds a way to get what she wants, and no doubt this boy, too, will prove malleable. If we prepare her thus, she will wrap Eric and all of Sweden around her thumb just like Catherine the Great."

Anne smiled a half-smile. "And what if Eric turns out just like the Peter in your story?"

I returned the same smile, hiding the fact that I knew he would be just as useless as Peter, and that I was preparing Elizabeth for the inevitable already.

"Then Elizabeth will get her chance of becoming Elizabeth the Great. She has it in her, you know it."

"Of course I do. But is there anything we get in return except a crown for my daughter?"

"I wouldn't suggest the match if we didn't. Allow me to be honest, since we promised to trust each other – if we ally with Sweden now, we'll be able to form an alliance more powerful than either France or Spain. We can become more independent, and free from the need to be their plaything, to be used at will. Surely the King must have told you about the brink of war that we find ourselves on."

Anne's face darkened. "He means to attack France."

"And we don't want that to happen," I added, much to her surprise. "I abhor of any war, Your Majesty, even if I do not harbour the same feelings for the French as you do. Still, I want to abate it, and with the help of the Swedish, we might just do that."

"And that is your plan." Anne searched my face for any signs of what I was thinking. "How crafty you are, deciding your sister's future."

"I only have England's best interests at heart, and Elizabeth's."

She hesitated, but then she nodded. "I know that. I believe you, but you must understand how reluctant I am to do it. If someone tried to betroth little Harry, would you accept it?"

"I'd be reluctant too, but I would see reason. We are royalty, after all. You and I might be the exception, but we have to marry for strategic reasons rather than love. Besides, love is not all there is. Looking at Elizabeth, I think she would prefer a marriage that grants her political power over one that just flatters her and is all lovey-dovey."

"Unfortunately, you might be right on that, Mary. She is so clever, and so gifted. She should not waste her talents on sitting around in Orleans… well, Sweden it may be, then. I'll encourage the King to open up negotiations so we can see what Gustav has to say for himself."

I smiled. "Thank you for your trust."

"Still, there is one thing that makes me wonder – you are saying you wish to prevent war, even at the cost of antagonizing your own cousin, who has invited your father to join him in war. Still, I hear you have called the imperial ambassador to a private audience not once, but twice these past days. I wonder why that is?"

"I, um…" She had caught me off guard here! "I have reason to suspect he is being insincere, to me and towards others. That is why I spoke with him privately."

Anne frowned at me, clearly not completely sold on my story.

"I am already working on a solution to this matter, and if you put Elizabeth's Swedish match to the King, it might just help me sort it out. Say you will, please."

"I will," Anne affirmed. "I am beginning to like the idea after all. Elizabeth deserves a crown, and why not show the Vikings that they ought to have been ruled by the English after all?"

At that, we both smiled broadly, and agreed with each other.

What didn't agree with me, however, was the Chapuys situation I had tried to hide from Anne somewhat. After the conversations we've had, I was now certain that he had at least tried to rid himself of Ferrante and his influence on me, if not of me altogether. The man I had once thought an ally now proved that my father had been right all along – Chapuys was the emperor's servant first, and only supported Catherine and me out of pity when it served him. Now that I had begun working in England's interests rather than the Empire's, I was becoming a nuisance to him. But he was also becoming a nuisance to me, and I would act on it much more swiftly than he could ever dare.

Strike before you are struck.

So a day after Anne had accepted my proposal about Elizabeth, I had another fateful conversation in a dusty office room at court.

"You once refused to heed my advice, and the outcome almost plunged our country in chaos and destruction. Yet I was merciful, and never spoke to the king of your shortcomings in the whole Pilgrimage affair," I reminded Cromwell. He wanted to speak up now, but I interrupted him. "Surely now, Lord Cromwell, you have accepted my care for this country and will take my counsel in the future?"

"Your Highness, I am His Majesty's servant and yours second, and I am grateful for your mercy," Cromwell assured me.

I wasn't sure whether or not it was show, but I didn't care either. What I had to say would surely bring him back in line, no matter his real thoughts.

"Then I hereby advice you to begin an investigation into ambassador Chapuys. His dealings have not been in England's best interest as of late. In fact, I am afraid they might be seen as treasonous by many. And there are also rumours of past transgressions – transgressions of such enormity that only death can absolve a man from them."

Cromwell seemed reluctant. "Those are harsh words, Your Highness."

"They are, but nonetheless, they are the truth. As His Majesty's most loyal servant, I put it to you to uncover the whole matter, and I do not even seek credit for it. Surely the King will be very pleased if you do not desist and present him with the whole truth, however painful it may be. The reward, I am sure, will be rich."

His face betrayed the fact that he didn't trust my words at all.

"Your Highness would need to be more precise on the matter. What is it I am required to do?" His tone was still wary.

"Search his rooms and find evidence that he lied to the King, that there has never been an offer to join the emperor, and that Chapuys has only tempted the King for the betterment of the Emperor, who knows nothing of the matter. Find the evidence and present it to the King."

Cromwell's eyes darkened. "Even if there is none?"

"There will be if you see to it," I replied just as darkly.

"What if my conscience was too heavily burdened by such a task?"

I smiled. This was the moment I had expected. Slowly, I produced some letters from my pocket and handed them to him. I gave him a few heartbeats to quickly skim the papers. His eyes grew wide as he realized that, while the letters may be old, they gave undeniable proof that Chapuys had encouraged the Seymours long ago in their quest to put Jane Seymour on the throne. It was even clearly visible that he had advised them on procuring the poison that had killed Anne's child in the womb, and that he had rejoiced at hearing the deed was done.

Long ago, when I had investigated the death of my unborn brother, before I had faked Anne's death, these letters had come into my possession. That was when I had told Chapuys I knew, and when I had threatened him to stay out of all future plots and be my servant rather than the Emperor's. He had broken his side of the deal, now I would break mine.

"Make sure to find these in his apartments also. I do not presume to tell you just how incriminating this evidence is, and it is utterly genuine. Anything else you find will pale in comparison, but will be accepted."

Cromwell nodded breathlessly, obviously shocked by the evidence in his hands. "But… why would you ask me to investigate, Your Highness?"

"I could do it myself, certainly, but then I might also have to inform the King of your involvement in the plot to have the Queen removed, and my unborn brother killed," I said rather casually.

When that sank in, his face was bereft of blood. I took a step closer.

"I know you and your scheming killed my brother. You would have stood by and smiled as the queen was executed on trumped up charges, you would have seen my little siblings bastardized. Do not, for any second, be deluded into thinking I would accept a slight like that. It is terrible treason of the grandest kind," I said in an ice cold tone. "But I am willing to give you a chance, since you have proven so obedient since the Pilgrimage. Turn against Chapuys, and I shall swear unto God to forget about your involvement in the plot. When the ambassador atones for his sins, we shall put the matter behind us."

For once, I saw him speechless. I had basically threatened his life, and given him only one way out. His hands, though barely noticeable, were shaking.

"Do you accept my mercy, or would you rather hope for the King's?"

"I… I will make arrangements for the ambassador's chamber to be searched. Thoroughly. A traitor to the crown should never go unpunished."

I smiled darkly. "Never," I agreed. "I am very much pleased with our conversation, Lord Cromwell. We should converse more often, don't you think?"

He gulped, and nodded, and hastily bowed before leaving. I watched him go.

I had once sworn to myself I would see Chapuys and Cromwell either hanged or embarrassed in the streets for what they had done to my family. To make good on my promise to Chapuys, I had to let Cromwell off the hook. If I investigated instead of him, my father might make the connection between the suspicions about me in this whole affair, but if his trusted Cromwell did it… I had to use him to get what I wanted, and I was willing to forgive his involvement for it. A high price, but I was certain the outcome would do me justice.

And well, at least it was entertaining. And I mean that in a very sarcastic way – entertaining only if you enjoy my father throwing one of his livid temper tantrums. I had been discussing the plans for Anne's birthday celebration with him, my uncle Charles, and Anne herself when Cromwell came and informed the king about his findings.

Chapuys, he said, had never received a formal order by the emperor to offer Henry partnership in war. Rather, he had made all of it up in order to shine in front of his master by presenting a new ally. There would be no concessions on the side of the emperor. And to make matters worse, while investigating this matter, Cromwell's men had found other written evidence that proved Chapuys had been behind another, even more heinous plot – that against Anne and her babe long ago.

I swear, if he could, my father would have flipped the table when he heard. Instead, he jumped up so rashly his chair fell over, and he threw his goblet into a mirror on the other side of the room.

"That bastard! That abominable traitorous bastard! I want him hanged! I want him hanged, drawn and quartered!"

Anne had paled in shock at this revelation and was unable to stop my father's rage, and from what his face told me, Uncle Charles was utterly unwilling to do so.

My father yelled a few other curses and threw some more cutlery before ordering Cromwell to arrest Chapuys immediately. A court case would be opened, and letters to the emperor had to be sent.

"I swear, if he speaks against the man's execution, it'll be him I'll go to war with," my father proclaimed. "If he was behind that plot, I'll rip his heart out myself!"

"Sweetheart, we know nothing about the Emperor's involvement," Anne tried to calm him. "Let Cromwell find out for you, and decide then."

"That bastard, that fat-chinned bastard, of course he knew. Do you think Chapuys pulled it all off by himself? God, I wish we were at war with him right now. Brandon, how far have war preparations come? The mustering?"

My uncle cleared his throat. "Majesty, we had planned to be ready within the month. Messages have been sent to all shires."

"Good. Let that Spanish bastard answer quickly, or else he'll feel the might of English ships!"

"Perhaps war is not necessary to show the Emperor our disapproval," I chimed in. "I have it on good authority that the Spanish war preparation has been halted. The Dutch harbours have been closed recently in fear of Swedish pirates attacking Spanish ships, and all the Northern countries have issued embargoes on goods to and from the Holy Roman Empire."

The Queen nodded, and smiled at me. She saw where this was going. "It is King Gustav's work, apparently. You remember, we spoke about a possible betrothal to his son?"

My father, now a little calmer, nodded slowly. "Yes, the Swedish. A man of sound mind, it seems. Tell me again, what was his offer?"

"He asked for Elizabeth's hand to give to his son and heir, Prince Eric. He would even be willing to accept a more modest dowry in return for English support against the Holy Roman Emperor."

Anne carefully neglected to mention the matter of Protestant versus Catholic, for she full well knew Henry was still Catholic in doctrine.

"Good man. Tell him we accept."

For a second, all of us were stunned. Then, Charles was the first to speak.

"Are you certain, Your Majesty?"

"I am. Francis, the Emperor… these squabbling fools will never have any daughter of mine! They still harbour feelings of doubt about her legitimacy, I know it! They do not deserve Elizabeth. If the Swedish offer her a crown, and us an alliance, why not take them by their word?"

"Indeed. Our darling Elizabeth deserves to become a queen. She excels at every subject of her studies," Anne agreed.

"She is my jewel," Henry said, smiling at her. "It is decided. Elizabeth will be Queen of Sweden, and we will teach the Emperor that this is England, and he should not meddle in our affairs!"

When I told George that night how well our plan had worked out, he could barely believe it. His smile grew wide as I spoke, but when I had ended, something dark suddenly crept in.

"And this…"

"This?" I frowned.

"Do not misunderstand me, my love. I know you did what needed to be done, and I am glad for it. What you, what we are doing will make England stronger. The England we believe in will come to pass… still I can't help but wonder about the cost at which it comes."

I took his hand into mine and nodded. "There are many things I do not like about it either. Some of the things I had to do… and I know what will happen to Chapuys. Do you think it makes me a murderer? Did Katherine Howard make me a murderer? Is this what you're worrying about?"

"Actually I was more concerned about my niece," George replied, raising an eyebrow. "Will Sweden be good to her? Is this the path that was meant for her? I mean, in the past you know of…"

"None of this would have happened. Elizabeth would never marry and never find happiness."

He flinched somewhat. "This does not sound too promising. And you believe Sweden will be better?"

"Yes," I replied without a doubt. "To be honest… I was not entirely true about her prospective husband. Eric is… well. She might not have what we have, my heart. But if she is anything like the Elizabeth of history, she will not need that. She needs to be great, and I am doing everything within my power to ensure that Elizabeth will achieve greatness and still enjoy happiness – in or outside of her marriage."

"Oh, listen to you," he returned, and laughed. "Outside of her marriage! How inappropriate."

"About as inappropriate as fooling around with your uncle by marriage while guest in a foreign country," I laughed back. "So, do you agree with me now? Elizabeth will be well taken care of, do not worry. As will Edward, of that I'm sure. His future wife will benefit him. Renee's daughter is a lovely child."

George grinned and put his arms around me. "Always thrifty, my love. Who do you have in store for Nellie, I wonder?"

"Actually, I have begun to investigate…"

A kiss on my cheek and his closing embrace stopped me. "You, oh you!"

I wanted to return the sweetness, but somehow, it made me feel nauseous.

"George, please, you're wrenching my stomach," I said, freeing myself.

"But usually you do not mind my wrenching…" He smiled and tried to come closer again, but when I instinctively withdrew, he stopped. A frown came upon his face. "Are you truly unwell? Let me feel your forehead."

"I'm fine, truly." Actually, I wasn't, I was beginning to feel worse.

George wouldn't have it. He touched my head and afterwards felt my nodes just the way I had taught him to detect an infection.

"Nothing," he concluded. "But you look pale. I'll send a physician over. We cannot risk anything. What would this country do without you?"

I winked at him. "What would you do without me?" Then, taking his hand into mine, I added: "And if you must, also call a midwife. Let us hope for the best rather than fear the worst."

"I love the way you think, wife." He kissed my cheek. "Let us pray for a little girl with your beautiful eyes instead of a gastroente… gas…"

In search of help, he looked at me.

"Gastroenteritis."

"Exactly what I meant, my brilliant wife. Let us hope for a daughter with your eyes and wits."

We embraced each other and hoped. The physician and midwife found nothing, but the latter said it was too early to be sure, so I continued to hope. Despite all the dangers and darkness of these days, this hope began to become the most prominent thing on my mind. I continued to imagine a third child – strange, isn't it? Long ago, I could not even have imagined being a mother at all. The whole idea of pregnancy had once seemed alien to me (and to a certain extent still did). But now…

Now I loved my children. It might not seem that way to you, since I speak more about politics than my family. But they are private to me, and even though I disclose many of my secrets, Harry and Charlie are none of them. They are, they were, they will forever be dear to my heart. I have always done what I needed to keep them far from prying eyes.

And the idea of having a third one to love just like them was thrilling.

Thrilling enough to carry me through the darkness to come, such as when I journeyed to my mother to inform her about Chapuys. The Emperor had disavowed him completely, hoping to save his alliance to my father by acknowledging Chapuys's involvement in the plot against Anne long ago. A court, quickly assembled by Uncle Charles, had found Chapuys guilty of high treason and murder. I thought it best to break the news to my mother in person, since she still held the man in high regard.

She listened in absolute silence as I disclosed the whole story to her. I could see the changing emotions in her face – disbelief, pain, dismay, shock, anger… But when I had ended, she simply straightened her shoulders and said: "I will pray for his soul."

"Mother, if you wish, you could return to London with me. I can arrange for the two of you to speak in the Tower before…"

"There is nothing for us to speak about."

"I know you were always close…"

She turned her back to me, perhaps to hide her face.

"His Majesty's court has found him guilty. There is nothing for us to speak about. May God have mercy on his soul." She clenched her fist. "Will you be there to watch?"

"I had planned on doing so."

"Don't." Her voice sounded almost broken. "If God grants your wish for another babe, you should not see something like that. Care for yourself, mi hija. There is nothing more precious in this world than your children."

"Surely, mama. You are right. Do you… Can you send for a midwife? My nausea persists, so perhaps I might be blessed after all."

She turned around, and even though she smiled, I could see she was also close to tears.

"Of course, my sweet. I will make sure one is sent for. Will you stay with me until then?"

I nodded, and returned her half-sad smile.

So instead of seeing Chapuys one last time, instead of driving home the point that I had kept my promise to him and destroyed him in revenge for my brother's murder, instead of being the badass I enjoyed being – instead of all that, I stayed with my mother, held her hand, and listened to stories of her youth.

We received word of Chapuys's execution a day before the midwife finally confirmed I was with child. It was a strange day.

A few days later, I returned to London to my husband. I was so elated at the thought of having another child, so relieved that imperial machinations were no longer threatening me or my family. I was happy. When I returned to our chambers, I fell into George's arms bubbling out the fact that we'd have another child.

Only then did I notice the pain in his eyes.

"Are you not glad?"

"I am glad," he said in a sullen voice. "And grateful. Forgive me, I…

I raised an eyebrow. "George, what is it?"

He gulped. "My sister is dead."

* * *

 **Happy New Year, everyone! Feel free to review and give me your thoughts on the recent events. What about Mary's pregnancy? Will her plans for her siblings' marriages work out? Are you sorry for Chapuys's end? And what about the sadness of the last sentence?**


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